


Thyme of My Life

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Chef Jared Padalecki, Competition, Cooking, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, M/M, Waiter Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: Jared knows he’s better than what everyone tells him - his parents, his boss, and everyone at Morgan’s Restaurant. He finally gets the chance to prove it to them all when he nails a spot on Masterchef, the biggest home cook competition on TV. This is the one big shot he’ll ever get and he has to do it on his own as he leaves behind the only person who believes in him, his best friend Jensen.With Jared gone in LA and cooking for his life, Jensen is stuck back on the East Coast with more distance between them than ever. It’s also the first time Jensen really acknowledges why he has such a soft spot for the kid and finally realizes what they could mean to one another.Big Bang Art Postbycassiopeia7.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 77
Kudos: 235





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Jensen is 24, Jared is 20/21.
> 
> Written for the 2020 [SPN_J2 Big Bang](https://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/).
> 
>  **Thanks and Cupcakes!**  
>  First off to the fabulous [cassiopeia7](https://cassiopeia7.livejournal.com/). THANK YOU FOR PICKING ME. It was so fun to work together again and I was so excited every time I got new art drafts. I even had to go through them all again earlier this week to get my mojo back and be inspired to wrap this story up. I'm honored to have your art on this story ... love you to bits, Deb! :-*
> 
> Writing this story started earlier this year when I was inspired by Season 10 of Masterchef, then the doc collected dust until I picked it back up to get a draft in for this year's BB. The draft was a mess, but I had ideas and then got even better ideas and loads of support from a great group of fandom pals ... kelleigh, [ashtraythief](https://ashtraythief.livejournal.com), [zubeneschamali](https://zubeneschamali.livejournal.com), [cherie_morte](https://cherie-morte.livejournal.com/), and [quickreaver](https://quickreaver.livejournal.com/). Their feedback made this story what it is today. Love you all! 
> 
> As always, big thanks to wendy for running this challenge each year! I know we bitch and moan about it throughout the process, but it's such a legacy that I never want to miss it <3
> 
> And extra cupcakes to [ashtraythief](https://ashtraythief.livejournal.com) and for last-minute beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.

The place smells of sugar when Jensen comes home. _Caramel_ his mind corrects, because his nose has gotten better at picking out distinct smells the more and more Jared comes around.

Jensen’s apartment is small, just over 600 square feet total, with a cramped living room and bedroom. The kitchen, on the other hand, is the cornerstone of the place with thin, tall cabinets going nearly to the ceiling to store all sorts of ingredients, an abundance of counter space for mixers and bowls and pans to take up space, and a gas stove with a broiler at the bottom for the perfect final step to any primo cuisine.

He doesn’t use any of it himself. He’s never been much for cooking even though he watches his fair share of competition shows where folks perfect Beef Wellington, scallops, and multi–tiered cakes. The most he does with his own motivation is toasting bagels for breakfast, microwaving pizza rolls or leftover pizza, and maybe heating up soup on the stovetop. 

But he supposes he doesn’t need to do more when he spends most of the week on 10–hour shifts serving high–end clientele at Morgan’s, the local steakhouse with a robust kitchen staff. Not to mention, Jared regularly commandeers his kitchen to feed them both. 

“Bourbon!” Jared calls out as Jensen heads to the bedroom to change out of his uniform. 

Dress slacks, a perfectly starched white shirt, and black bowtie are replaced with sweats and a wrinkled t–shirt from his laundry basket. He was planning to hit the 24–hour laundromat tonight, but Jared’s appearance is a welcome change in plans. 

“Bourbon!” Jared’s loud and insistent this time.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jensen grumbles. “Give me a second.”

“One second! Time’s up!”

He shakes his head with a snort on his way to the kitchen. Some days, Jensen thinks that he’s being punished with Jared as a bratty kid brother to fill out the lack of family. It’s a nice thought, but he knows Jared serves a greater purpose these days.

In the kitchen, Jared’s holding the bottle of liquor in one hand and lifting the skillet off the flame with the other. He’s also glaring at Jensen. “You sure did hurry that little ass out here, huh?”

Jensen smacks Jared’s ass. “Who’s talking about little, kid?”

Jared rolls his eyes at _kid_ as he fumbles the pan. “ _Stop_ , you’re gonna ruin it.”

With a step back, Jensen lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Now what did you want?”

Nodding at the counter, Jared points out a short glass tumbler filled with amber liquid. “A shot for you, one for me, and one for the pan.”

“Dude, the caramel will set if you wait any longer,” Jensen complains, even as he knows he’s partly to blame for it. He grabs the glass and toasts Jared, a content smile on both their faces. Jensen downs the glass while Jared takes a swig right from the bottle, then Jared drizzles bourbon into the pan, tilts it to the flame, and starts a strong flambé over the caramel. 

The kid is only 20, but he’s learned a lot already and Jensen enjoys watching the precise movements as halved peaches join the caramel and Jared bastes them with a quick, practiced flip of his wrist. Jensen leans against the counter, pours them both another drink with a second glass from the cupboard, and slowly sips as he watches and considers Jared here and now. 

It’s well past midnight and Jensen had rolled out of Morgan’s with the last of the closing staff. Jared was cut from the prep station around nine, leaving Chad to finish the night cleaning up solo. Jensen hadn’t seen Jared leave, but he can picture the pursed lips trying so hard not to whine or complain that he didn’t have a reason to stick around and no excuse left to hover and watch Chris and Aldis run the kitchen.

“How’d you do tonight?” Jared asks, hands and eyes concentrating on rolling out pastry on the counter. 

“Pretty good for a Wednesday.” He switches gears as he takes in the mess throughout his kitchen. It’ll be a hell of a lot of work to clean up, not to mention money to restock the items Jared used. “Did you come here right after you got off?”

“Stopped at home for a sec.”

A few moments of quiet pass and Jensen puts it to Jared now focused on covering the skillet with the pastry, folding edges with a perfect pinch all around. “And?” Jensen asks, needling even when he knows the answer.

“And then I came here.”

Jensen nods and imagines the tension that has planted roots in the Padalecki household before he met Jared. It’s a damn shame Jared’s mom and dad don’t know what a jewel they have in their son, that they’re too fixated on their own plans for the kid and would rather Jared go work with his dad at the electric company than follow his own dreams. 

Like Jared, Jensen decides to sidestep that whole mess and pokes at him. “And then you went right for the peaches.”

“I already got the pears nailed down. But the moisture of the peaches varies, so I’m trying to get these just right.”

All week, Jared’s been working through Tarte Tatin s of all varieties. The banana was kind of a wreck when they were more mush than anything and the pineapple was pretty much just soggy pastry and juice. 

The oven creaks when Jared puts the skillet inside and Jensen finally takes a look at Jared, narrowing his eyes when he sees the Rolling Stones shirt stretching over the kid’s broad chest. He ignores the flicker of warmth in his own gut and exaggerates a sigh. “Stealing my food _and_ my clothes.”

Jared drags a hand down the shirt and blushes, then apologizes with a low voice. “I stunk from the restaurant.”

Jensen rolls his eyes, teasing him with a low _Mmhmm._

“You know,” Jared starts with a complaint, “the dishwasher and prep station ain’t as cushy as you cruising through the air conditioned dining room.”

“Hey, I bust my ass slinging plates and dealing with the Wall Street crowd.”

Now Jared mocks Jensen with rolling eyes and his own _Mmhmm_.

They settle at the small dining table shoved up against the wall in the corner until the timer dings, Jensen counting down some of the night’s more particular customers, like the ones Chris wanted to spit at for ordering a filet well done. 

“He’s gonna have an aneurysm one of these days,” Jared laughs. “All because of beef.”

Jensen nudges Jared’s foot. “Hey, if it were your kitchen, you’d be a bit manic about it, too.”

“If only.” He sighs and plays with the hem of the shirt, a few strings loose and the fabric uncurling from the seam. 

The shirt’s a hand–me–down from Jensen’s brother, at least 15 years old and looks it. Not much younger than Jared, Jensen laughs to himself. 

Jared glares at him. “What? You don’t think I’ll ever have my own place?”

Jensen rights himself immediately, face going soft and careful as he realizes the mistake Jared’s made of his laughter. “I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to,” he mumbles. “Everyone else does.”

Before Jensen can clarify and ease Jared back from his insecurities, the timer dings and Jared’s getting the skillet out of the oven. Jensen joins him at the counter to watch the careful movements of Jared setting the plate to the skillet and flipping the whole thing over in one smooth move. 

As Jared removes the skillet to reveal the golden peaches and syrupy caramel, Jensen lets out a low whistle. “Looks good, kiddo.” 

Jared’s cheeks go pink with a tight smile and Jensen pats him on the back. “Hopefully it tastes as good as it looks.” 

In the eighteen months of Jared playing chef in Jensen’s kitchen, they’ve both learned that very few dishes ever fail to make Jensen’s taste buds sing. But then Jared usually insists Jensen has low standards. 

It takes another few minutes for Jared to prep the plates and make the finishing touches so it’s TV ready. When the dessert is set before Jensen with a flourish, his stomach grumbles, even though it’s nearly two in the morning now and he’s never been much of a sweets guy. At least, he wasn’t before Jared came along. Still, he whimpers, “Oh God,” as the flavor bursts all over his tongue. “This is the best one yet.”

Jared ducks his head and brings his knee up to his chest with his foot on the seat of his chair. He forks at his own slice and fiddles with it, lining up the fruit with the right amount of pastry and syrup.  
“It’s Roché’s recipe, but I added a few extra things.” Jared sighs. “Maybe one day I’ll get on that show and he’ll get to taste it.”

Jensen grins as he imagines Jared on Masterchef, where a host of culinary celebrities – not to mention the whole world – would see Jared in all his glory, front and center in the kitchen. “You’re going to blow his mind.” He practically inhales the next two bites and happily sighs as he sits back in the chair. He finds Jared watching him as he eats his own serving, eyes wide and mouth twisting oddly, nervous. “Seriously, Jared,” Jensen pushes on, more confident than Jared ever could be. “This is better than anything Loretta’s done, and she’s been at the restaurant almost as long as you’ve been alive.”

Jared ducks his head and takes another bite, then nods slowly, like he’s making notes of what he’s tasting. “I guess it’ll do,” he finally says. 

Jensen rests his elbow on the table, chin in hand, and chuckles at Jared. He’s watched Jared grow leaps and bounds in the last years from an eager teenager looking for any spot in the restaurant to a 20–year–old who’s calmed down some, though still impatient to find a place on the line. Morgan welcomed Jared through the doors yet has done little to let Jared prove himself in the kitchen, continuing to insist the kid has to pay his dues and put in the time.

Then again, there’s a strong line–up with Morgan expediting to his precise standards and it takes a lot to stand out among the stronger personalities. If only Morgan would taste any of the plates Jared puts together in Jensen’s kitchen … Jared could finally prove to Morgan, his parents, and himself, that he really can _cook_.

Jensen sets that as his new goal – to get Morgan to notice Jared. First, he’ll have to get the guys on the line to give Jared a chance.

After a long Saturday service and an even longer stretch of baking at Jensen’s, Jared is still up early Sunday morning with the Food Network as his study guide.

Last night, he’d finally found the perfect balance of cinnamon and lemon juice to accompany the peach Tarte Tatin, but his education isn’t over. Nowhere near it if he has any interest in making this his career. It’s bad enough he can’t afford to go to culinary school and has to take the long road through the kitchen, putting him at Morgan’s for the time being. 

With that thought, he glances over his shoulder to the kitchen, where his mom is spooning scrambled eggs onto four plates on the table. Liam and Lisa, 5–year–old twins, are chattering away as they nudge their tiny Big Bird spoons through the eggs. There’s a push and pull of emotions in Jared’s chest. 

His brother and sister are adorable and fun, bringing smiles to a rather dull family life. And he does love the moments he gets to spend with them. His parents, not so much, especially since the twins came along. Liam and Lisa may have been a surprise after Jared had been the only child for 15 years, but then his parents’ focus changed on the kids and they immediately put Jared on alert that he was getting older, more mature, and could be far more independent than he was letting on.

In the meantime, his parents doted on the twins and Jared became an afterthought, except when they lectured him left and right about going to a trade school so he could follow his dad to the electric company. In his own way, Jared took his parents’ message to heart and determined that he could take care of himself just fine, while they focused on this new life they were making. The sad fact is that they followed his lead and he’s often left on his own even when they are home.

The scene in the kitchen isn’t uncommon in this house, with the kids tended to with smiles and laughter, loud laughter between them all, and Jared in the living room with TV cooks keeping him company. 

He frowns when he realizes that not only did his parents not invite him for breakfast, but there isn’t even a plate for him. 

His dad suddenly notices Jared is still watching them, and he sits up a little straighter. Jared does, too, awaiting some kind of order. “Did you eat?” his dad asks with a subtle frown that makes his greying beard flit out around his chin. 

“No, not yet,” Jared replies then puts on a lie with a forced shrug. “Not really hungry.”

With a nod, his dad lets it go, but his mom speaks up from the other side of the table. “At least turn that stuff down. We can’t hear each other.”

Jared closes his eyes as he turns to the TV. He heaves a sigh, trying to let it all roll off his shoulders as he turns down the volume.

He knows they’re not bad people. They’ve never treated him poorly or let him go without. They just seem to kind of … forget about him these days. Or not show much interest in him beyond another body in the house, when they’re not on his case about his job and how they think he wastes time at Jensen’s that could be spent making a better future for himself.

The morning continues with the twins now racing through the house, screeching and laughing when they catch up to one another, falling to the floor in a pile of tiny kid arms and legs. 

Jared’s got one eye on the screen, where Sterling Brown is taking a pan of chocolate souffles out of an oven on a sleek kitchen set, and another keeping tabs on the kids rolling around on his left. He chuckles as he keeps watching Sterling gently tap the souffle and talk about the firm, risen texture, and he pats Liam’s back before they’re off running again. 

There’s a small smile left on his face when he turns back to the screen and jots down a few notes for dusting the souffles with powdered sugar or cocoa, and he adds a thought about cinnamon. 

The house continues to be pretty loud for a Sunday morning, but Jared tunes out most of the noise around him. The words, too, until his mom comes into the room and turns off the TV. She’s towering over him, arms crossed, and lips turned down. 

“When are you going to finish your chores?”

Jared blinks, takes a breath to stop any quick complaint or bitch back at her. “I already did.”

She blinks, too, and he imagines she’s also taking a moment to stop from sighing at him. “When?”

“When I got home.”

“And what time was that?”

He tries not to squirm, mostly so she doesn’t see it. He doesn’t know what the problem is, what _their_ problem is with how he spends his time. They didn’t care to worry about him for breakfast, never bug him about when he’s coming home or his shifts at Morgan’s. But here he is, staring at his mother, holding his breath again, and anticipating the lecture. 

“Maybe 3am?” he finally answers.

She huffs. “You know, at some point, you’ll have to find a real job with a real schedule.”

“I like my job,” he insists with a frown. “And I like my schedule.”

“Sure, Jared,” she says quietly, patting his shoulder as she passes and asks him to come help clean up from breakfast.

Before emptying the last of the eggs, he takes a forkful and surveys every taste, thinking about how he could have whipped up something so much better … some creme fraiche, a little garlic and onion, veggies … the options are endless to turn bland scrambled eggs into a real meal. A packed omelet, eggs benedict, even a quick skillet scramble with crispy potatoes, peppers, sausage, and a dash of paprika, the likes of which none of them have had on their boring palate. 

Hell, just a dash of salt and pepper would make this better. 

And don’t get him started on the limp and soggy bacon. 

He holds a piece up and lets the grease run off as he decides if he’s actually going to put this in his mouth. He’s starving and it smells amazing, as bacon does, but the image of the slimy, undercooked slice is making his stomach turn. 

“What’s wrong with the bacon?” Mom asks from the doorway, arms crossed. “Gonna tell us how we can’t cook anything here?”

They exchange a look and he takes a moment to formulate an answer that won’t further upset her. They’ve been here before and he knows there’s no need to rock the boat before noon. 

He thinks about how direct – and rude – Morgan can be when he’s expediting, and there’s no way he’d go that route with his parents. But he also considers that being honest can go a long way to helping people improve. Constructive feedback and all that.

“I was just thinking that it could be cooked a little longer,” he offers carefully. “Cook off the fat.”

His mom looks to his dad, now settling in to watch the Sunday football game in the living room. “Hey Dale,” she calls out. “Jared here was just thinking …”

His dad looks up, shakes his head, then focuses back on the TV without a word to help either side of the tension.

Jared’s not surprised. His mom is always quicker to snap, and his dad sits back to avoid conflict. When he really thinks about it, he’s more like his dad than he realized … how he avoids being home when he doesn’t need to, all to sidestep any tension with his mom.

“I mean, I could cook with you sometime,” Jared offers, even when he knows he’s reaching. They hate that he wants to cook, that he works at Morgan’s, and spends most of his free time at Jensen’s or watching cooking shows. “I’ve been picking up some tricks at the restaurant and we could spend some time just –”

Lisa screams, “Mama! Liam’s biting!” which takes attention away from anything Jared suggested. Which is disappointing and yet also a relief because his mom is moving to the back of the house and the conversation is dropped. 

He sighs before quickly wrapping up cleaning the kitchen so he can get focus on something other than his parents and arguing about him wasting his time with all this food business.

It’s a late start on a Tuesday, with only dinner service on weekdays, and Jensen watches Chris count meat in the fridge while Aldis accepts today’s produce delivery.

“Morgan will kick my ass,” Chris says with a roll of his eyes.

Jensen smiles and needles at the head chef, #2 behind Morgan, who runs a tight ship and scares most of the employees. Jensen, not so much. Then again, he gets away with a bit more out on the floor with Tahmoh running the front of the house. “Morgan’s not here on Mondays. He doesn’t have to know.”

“ _I’ll_ know and that’s enough of a problem.”

“C’mon, it’s not a big deal. I just want to let Jared get some time in the kitchen.” After a beat, Jensen adds. “It’s his birthday. It’s the least we could do.”

“The kid’s not _my_ charity case,” Chris insists, rolling his eyes. 

Jensen ignores the ugly twist in his stomach. It isn’t the first time someone at the restaurant has dug into him for all he does for Jared. No one really gets it. Then again, Jensen’s never really told anyone the real reason, never said it aloud that he’s been enamored with the kid since the day they met. Not to mention, Jensen’s never confirmed that he’s gay – in the restaurant or elsewhere. He only ever told his mama and she’s not around to tell a soul.

Still, he just wants to do a favor for a friend. Jared deserves a break and deserves to find his place in the kitchen – in _this_ kitchen. So, Jensen wants to get some time for Jared to cook in a real professional space and the kid’s upcoming birthday will make it a perfect surprise.

“He’s not a charity case, man,” Jensen argues. “Come on. He deserves a chance.”

“You bringing your own food or you gonna steal ours?”

Jensen hadn’t thought that far along, unsure what exactly Jared will want to cook. It’s always a surprise until Jared’s in the mood and crafts what he can with what’s available in Jensen’s kitchen. With a fully–stocked restaurant like Morgan’s, Jared could really go to town.

“I’ll pay for whatever we use.”

“It’s not money out of my pocket, you know? It’s right to Morgan.”

He curses to himself, regretting the idea already. Still, he forges on. “I’ll deal with him then.”

“Your funeral,” Chris grumbles, heading off to the cooler. “Not sure why you care so much.”

Jensen’s a little unsure, too, but he ignores the worry over Morgan’s reaction – better to ask forgiveness than permission and all that. “I don’t care _that_ much,” he lies. “Don’t you want to do something nice for him?”

“Why?”

They stare at one another for longer than is comfortable and Jensen ends up shaking his head. “Because he’s part of your crew.”

Chris laughs harshly. “Man, if that kid can ever handle a knife without cutting himself – or someone else – then maybe I’ll give him a chance. Until then, he’s just one of a hundred flies on a pile of bull shit.”

“And which fly are you?” Jensen challenges.

Another laugh and Chris shakes his head. “I’m the fucking bull, man.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and tries not to imagine what that makes Morgan. “Are you going to help me or what?”

“Like I said, it’s your funeral when Morgan finds out. But I’ll make sure to say some kind words over your grave.”

Before Jensen can respond, the kitchen comes to life as the staff files in. Aldis and Christian get everything fired up, Loretta starts her sweet creations in the back corner with all the needs a bakery chef could want for, and Chad and Jared are ramping up at the prep station.

After checking his section out front is ready, Jensen heads back in the kitchen to watch it come alive. He loves the calm, warm atmosphere at the front of the house that the servers have to project, all an act, really. But he also really enjoys the chaos and crass energy heating up the place.

He can joke around with Chris and Aldis as they start up the line, and even tease Loretta by trying to take a few chocolate chips off her baking station – she always swats at him with her towel and he always winks at her to ease her anger (always works, too) – and then he wanders near the prep station to get a look at Jared.

Chad and Jared are side by side to get vegetables chopped and meat broken down into servings. Jensen smiles as he passes and catches how Chad shoulders into Jared, and they laugh a little. He wonders if Jared’s finally making friends in the kitchen, and he wonders why that fills him with a mixture of happiness and annoyance. It’s a first step to Jared finding his way around the restaurant and his budding career, but Jensen suddenly imagines Jared befriending everyone in the kitchen and no longer relying on him for a place to cook, someone to hang out with when home is a last resort, or even just to be around. 

“Hey dickwad!” Chris yells and Jensen jerks around to see the cook aiming his knife in the air, nodding back at the prep station. “What’re you doing to my onions?”

Both Chad and Jared look at the station, knives stalled above vegetables. It’s Chad who speaks up first, angry and loud, “Who’re you calling dickwad?”

Chris rolls his eyes. “The other dickwad with the onions.”

“Carry on then,” Chad says, laughing as he turns away to head to the walk–in fridge for more produce. 

Jared’s a deer in headlights and Jensen takes a few steps towards the prep station before he realizes he’s tensing up to defend Jared. 

“Stop shredding onions, Jesus H. Christ.” Chris looks at Aldis and sighs roughly. “How many times do I gotta tell this kid?”

Aldis is grinning, even as he’s heating up pans to cook bacon for tonight’s special. Spaghetti alla Carbonara was Aldis’s concoction and Jensen’s already had a taste in the preview, convincing him it’ll exceed even Morgan’s expectations. 

Still, for all of Aldis’s genius for flavor, he has more than that in kitchen bravado, so he tosses out a few choice words for Jared. “If this little boy can’t chop an onion, how’s he thinking about being a chef? Doubt he could hack it at a Waffle House.”

“Hey, Waffle Houses have a good reputation,” Chris argues, grinning at his partner–in–crime. “This little kid sure doesn't.”

“I’m not a kid,” Jared complains and, suddenly, Jensen gets why Jared hates when Jensen calls him that.

“Just a reputation for disaster,” Aldis continues. “He’ll be lucky if he makes it out of here with all ten fingers before the night’s through.”

“He won’t make it tonight without all his fingers.”

“Not when he’s chopping like that. Should just call his ma to take him home.”

Chris starts mocking Jared, calling out _mommy_ in a high voice the whole kitchen is tearing through a run of all sorts of mockery that is so typical in kitchens. Even Chad, who Jensen had thought was some kind of ally, with the both of them on the prep station. Maybe Chad’s just glad to no longer be the low man on the totem pole, which Jared most certainly is. 

Jensen steps closer to Jared’s station to do … what, he’s not sure. Sure, he works here, but this isn’t _his kitchen_. Maybe just a small smile will ease Jared, but Jared can’t see Jensen with his head dropped forward and his messy hair coming down over the bandana that’s meant to keep his hair back. There’s a sharp pang in Jensen’s chest and he knocks at the edge of the prep station to get Jared’s attention. He gives Jared a sympathetic, soured look when they meet eyes, cursing Chris and Aldis in his head already.

Jared’s face is completely blank for the quick seconds they have eye contact, then he’s focused on his work again. This time, his knife goes carefully through the onions and he’s more precise with each cut. 

Jensen figures Jared’s been steeling his emotions for a long time, especially with all he deals with at home and for all Jensen knows how kitchens are a brutal place to earn respect. And for all that Jensen actually likes working with Chris and Aldis, he’s not about to let Jared drown alone.

“Why don’t you worry about your own station,” Jensen says when he gets closer to line. 

Chris sets his palms on the counter and glares at Jensen. “Why don’t you go pucker up your lips for all the assholes you’re about to serve?”

Jensen’s shoulders rise and he narrows his eyes back at him. “Why don’t you stick that knife up your–”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Morgan bellows as he enters the kitchen. 

All excess noise ceases and the kitchen staff are 100 percent focused on their work as Morgan checks each station. His chef's jacket is perfectly pressed as always, the black scrawl of _J.D. Morgan_ elegant and popping against the stark white fabric. It’ll be a mess of sauces by the end of the night, more fitting with the mess of the man’s salt and pepper beard and multitude of tattoos everywhere. 

When Morgan stops at the line to stare at Jensen, Jensen takes a step back from the harsh look alone. “What’re you doing here?”

“I was just –”

“You were just leaving.” Morgan grins, but it betrays the threat creeping into his voice. “To the front of the house or out the back door. Your choice.”

Jensen takes a deep breath and glances around the kitchen. It’s quiet beyond the boiling pots and knives working through food, and all eyes are on Jensen. When he meets Jared’s, there’s fear and shock in the kid’s face and Jensen suddenly wonders how this situation has escalated far faster than he thought it would. 

When Jensen takes a few more steps back, heading towards the dining room, Morgan laughs. “That’s what I thought. Now leave the big boys to the big toys.” He even waves Jensen off with a flit of his fingers. 

There’s a flash to all the times Jared’s complained about the kitchen and how hard it’s been to survive even one service without at least one bruise to his ego. Jensen had always joked that restaurants could be rough and tumble, but he’d never Morgan heard talk to the front of house staff like that. 

Maybe Jared was onto something when trying so hard to make some kind of connection in the restaurant, to find an ally who could make him feel a little safer in this tense environment.

Chris is watching him as he backs away. Despite Morgan’s attitude, which should make Jensen back out of his plans, Jensen quietly asks, “Monday?”

“No way, man,” Chris replies with a laugh.

“I’ll give you 10 percent of my tips tonight.”

That seems to make Chris think because he’s put a pan down on the fire and just stares at it.

“Fifteen,” Jensen offers.

“Twenty–five.”

“Twenty.” 

Chris puts his hand out to shake and Jensen isn’t sure if he made out or not. Or if he should hope for a big night to cover whatever he now owes Chris.

The hallway from the back entrance into the kitchen is peppered with framed reviews of Morgan’s, with the executive chef front and center. There are the typical snapshots of arms crossed over the white jacket, forearms showing off all their tats so he’s all rough and wild in juxtaposition to the charming smile and eyes. Jared always looks at each newspaper clipping when he comes in every afternoon and on his way out in the evenings. He uses it as a reminder of all he seeks out in this industry, while Jensen tends to nudge Jared in another direction to pay no mind to the restaurant’s drill sergeant.

“You’re more than he is,” Jensen insists when he sees Jared stalled in front of the last clipping before leaving for the night.

Seconds later, Jared’s being pushed out the door as Jensen goes into the alley for a smoke break. It’s just after 9:15 and Jared was cut for the night. He wonders how much longer until Jensen’s ready to leave, too. Maybe he’ll hang out back here to wait or … well, head home is his only real option.

“Did the night go any better?” Jensen asks. 

Jared can’t look his friend in the face as the evening flashes through his mind. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to chop, slice, and dice. He’s just used to it under calmer circumstances. The pressure in the kitchen gets him riled up, anxious and shaking with the knife. Not to mention Chris and Aldis seem to have an eye on him, constantly, and never fail to call out when he’s made mush of the tomatoes or uneven cuts of zucchini. It’s not that he lacks knife skills. He just hates the pressure and speed they demand of him, and always crumbles under that negativity.

“After that stellar start?” Jared jokes. He’s embarrassed for every mistake he’s made tonight. Worse yet, Jensen had to witness some of it and hear how the kitchen nails him to the wall for it.

“Everyone has to start somewhere,” Jensen offers. 

Jared tries to ignore the crooked smile and tells himself it’s not out of pity. One of these days, he’s sure Jensen will grow tired of him and all the times Jensen has to tell him he’s better than Jared thinks he is. 

“You think Chris or Aldis never made a mistake? Hell, Chad was the dog everyone kicked until you came along.”

“Gee, thanks,” Jared replies quietly. 

“I didn’t mean …” Jensen sighs, takes a long drag of his cigarette, then nears Jared to keep talking. “You’ve got a lot to learn still and maybe you can learn it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else?” His mind stutters because Morgan’s is one of the most respected restaurants in this town and there’s likely nowhere else to earn his way. But also, is Jensen telling him to quit? Is this Jensen’s way to get some space between them?

“Yeah,” Jensen shrugs. “Maybe somewhere where people will be nice and help you.”

“I want to _earn_ my way, Jensen.”

“I know you do. But maybe this isn’t the place to do it.”

Jared’s emotions suddenly flare and he’s nearly yelling in the alley, even when he wishes he could shut up. “So, you think I shouldn’t work here? You think I’m not good enough for this restaurant?”

Jensen huffs. “Of course you are, but – ”

“But maybe you don’t want me to work here.”

Surprisingly, Jensen remains calm and reworks his thoughts to explain himself. Jared can’t help but listen, his anger and fear slowly dissipating. “It has nothing to do with me. It’s all about you and what you deserve, which is someone who’s going to be better to work for.”

“It’s Morgan, though.” Jared sighs, sadly now, because there’s no way going to another restaurant wouldn’t look – and feel – like a demotion. 

“What’s Morgan got that’s so special anyway?” 

“He has his own restaurant,” Jared points out with attitude. “That’s a hell of a lot more than I do.”

“It’s not all about material things,” he argues, and Jared jerks a fist in reply. “Okay,” Jensen laughs. “Material things are nice and all, but you’re still –”

“I’m still young,” Jared replies flatly. “I’m just the _kid_.”

Jensen steps up to him and grabs onto his shoulder, shakes a little. “Hey, you know that when I call you kid, I don’t mean it like they do, right?”

Jared looks away as he slides out of Jensen’s hand. He does know, or at least likes to think so. Likes to think a lot of things about Jensen that make him so much different than all the assholes in the restaurant. But every time Jensen says it, there’s still a sliver of anxiety running through him beneath the warmth that comes from the way Jensen’s voice sounds with that one word.

Between drags of the cigarette, Jensen goes on. “What I was saying, though, is that you’re still fighting for what you want. You walk into that kitchen every day and still try to be better. These jagoffs just show up and go on autopilot while sucking Morgan’s dick.”

“I’d really like to forget that image,” Jared mumbles.

“You know what I meant,” Jensen insists. “They do what he says just because they got nothing better to do.”

“They do what he says because he commands that restaurant, and everyone respects him no matter what he says or does.” Jared sighs, so much frustration flying around inside of him. He starts shaking and he doesn’t think it’s against the chill of the night. 

“Okay, they respect him. So what? He’s the boss. They’re going to listen to him.”

“I know that!” Jared yells, quickly bringing his voice back down. They’re the only two out here and he’d like to keep it that way. This kitchen is hard enough on him; the whole crew coming outside to witness his breakdown won’t help his standing. “That’s my whole point.”

Jensen won’t back down, shaking his head as he flicks his cigarette down the alley. “And my point is that people respect him.”

“Are you drunk?” Jared asks. A moment later, “High?”

With a chuckle, he shrugs. “Chad gave me something after that big table had me running all around.” Still, he goes on. “What I’m trying to tell you is that they respect him, but no one really cares about him. People care about you.”

Jared rolls his eyes and huffs. He runs through a list of anyone in his life and comes up empty. “Name one.”

Jensen opens his mouth before promptly closing it. He breathes deep as he stares at Jared, and Jared’s heart nearly stops at the realization that for all that Jared believed he had no one in his court, here Jensen is proving that. 

Even Jensen won’t back him up.

Jared huffs and looks away, hoping the tears forming in his eyes stay right there. No sense in letting Jensen think even worse of him. “And that’s _my_ point.”

As Jared walks away, Jensen calls out, “Where are you going?”

It hurts to say it, but it hurts even worse to stick around here. “Home.”

“You know you don’t want to go home,” Jensen yells back.

Jared turns and walks backwards, forcing more space between them because now his tears are ready to break, and he can’t let Jensen see that. He flaps his arms out with an exaggerated shrug. “Where else am I gonna go?”

“You can go to my place.” As Jared continues walking, Jensen insists, “You know you can always go to my place.”

_Do I?_ Jared thinks. Sure, Jensen gave him his key a few months ago, insisting Jared should use it when he needs to escape home, but Jared wonders how much longer he can use this good fortune. 

The conversation ends as Jared hurries down the alley until he reaches the street and can no longer be tempted to look back at Jensen. 

When Jared had asked to name one person who cares about him, they were both sadly quiet. Not even Jared could convince himself of anyone to name. Jensen obviously couldn’t either.

*** 

At home, his dad is in his armchair in the living room, as always, and gives Jared the barest of waves when he walks through the front door. The rest of the house is calm; at this time of night, his mom is probably putting the kids to bed, meaning Jared has to keep pretty quiet.

He grunts his hello and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water. After he turns off the faucet, he clutches the glass and stares at the slow drip of water into the drain. The house isn’t rundown, so much as a little behind on repairs. He vaguely remembers a week or so ago when his dad asked him for help to fix the sink and right now, it’s the best distraction from the night he’s had. 

Back in the living room, his dad’s dark eyes are trained on the TV, no hint that he’s sensed Jared in the doorway. Jared clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. His dad glances over for a second before going back to college football on the screen. 

Jared clears his throat again, this time for himself, and forces his voice out. “Hey, I was thinking we could fix the sink?”

There’s a long beat while his dad blinks at the screen, like the words are foreign to him. “Right now?”

With a shrug, Jared excuses it away. “I’m home now. I saw it’s still dripping.”

“Maybe in the morning.”

“Okay,” Jared agrees and turns to the hallway, but not before his dad calls for him and he stops just outside the living room. 

“I talked to my supervisor and he’ll be happy to have you come in on Monday.”

Closing his eyes, Jared pushes any argument down and tries to play it cool. He steps back into the living room to answer. “I have work Monday.”

“Not in the morning.”

“And I have to watch the twins while Mom’s at work.” For once, he’s glad to put that excuse back on his parents.

“Mom will go in late,” he replies, eyes still glued to the TV. “We already talked about it.”

Jared takes a long breath and waits even longer to reply because he knows that no matter what he says, it won’t be enough. “I don’t really want to.”

His dad finally looks at him, longer than just a passing glance, and Jared is frozen in place. 

It’s not that they’re rough on him; he just wishes they’d listen.

“Sometimes it’s not about what we want, Jared. You think this is how I wanted my life to end up?”

Jared wonders just how much that answer is about him and how he didn’t turn out the way his parents wanted. Comments like this over the years have chipped away at Jared’s self–esteem, but he feels this nagging sense to keep speaking up. “I know that your work is an easy answer, but I really want to cook.”

“An easy answer?” His dad’s eyes narrow and there’s something darker in the tight look he gives Jared. “You think my work is easy?”

“No, but taking a job from you is easy. I didn’t earn that.”

“You’re not going to earn anything in a kitchen either.”

Jared immediately feels the punch to the gut. Jensen already told him to go somewhere else to cook and now his dad’s words cut even deeper. 

“Look, I’m sorry, kid,” his dad says, and Jared immediately rolls his eyes. His dad calling him _kid_ is even worse than when the guys in the kitchen say it. “But one of these days you’re gonna have to get a real job and help out around here or move out and figure out just how bad an idea it is to think you’ll make a living being a cook.”

Pursing his lips, Jared nods and looks away. Even when Jensen’s insistence to work elsewhere sits heavy on his shoulders, he thinks about all the times Jensen has raved over his cooking. He has a wet smile when he turns back to his dad. “You know, I’m actually pretty good at it.”

“You cut vegetables.” The tone isn’t harsh, but the words still cut deep. “And we don’t have the money to send you to school for it. Just listen to us for once and stop pretending you’re going to cook.”

Jared doesn’t bother to reply, heading right to his room to collapse on the bed. He boils over with frustration and an eagerness that he wants to show his parents just how wrong they are. To show that he’s more than just a timecard to punch at the end of the day. 

It doesn’t take long to make him loathe staring at the four walls of his bedroom, so he changes into a clean tee and heads out for a long walk.

*** 

At a supermarket a few blocks from Jensen’s apartment, Jared scopes out the aisle of specialty cuisines like Hispanic, Asian, and then finds himself in the aisle of all the Italian foods. Eye level with boxes of pasta, he thinks about Aldis’s recent addition to the menu – spaghetti alla carbonara. Jared tasted the sauce during prep, but he thinks it could be more, could do more for the taste buds.

Food is more than a meal. It’s an experience and Jared wants to try it all. 

He grabs a box of linguine, turns back to the Asian aisle and loads up his basket with chili garlic sauce and miso, then heads for the specialty cheeses for a block of Parmigiano Reggiano. 

A man on a mission now, Jared fills the basket with other odds and ends to round out the dish, and even stops in the liquor department for a bottle of cabernet. They don’t often drink wine, but he thinks it’ll be a nice treat with the dish. Plus, Jensen prefers red over sweet whites and Jared figures he owes him an apology for crashing his kitchen yet again.

Thankfully, the cashier recognizes him from his repeated trips here with Jensen over the last year. She knows enough to ask him how work was, smiling kindly when he says _it could’ve been better_ as if he doesn’t mean that it royally sucked. He’s not going to complain, though, when she doesn’t card him because she has always assumed that he and Jensen are the same age.

There’s a giddy little jump to his step after he pays for all the items – happy to have a new direction for the evening plus a little alcohol to get the experiment off to a good start.

And the run of excitement continues as he mixes up his ingredients, watches pancetta fry in a pan, and pours himself a second glass of wine. He’s grinning and cooking with a glass in one hand and a utensil in the other to mix up the creamy egg mixture with a rather large and tasty pile of Parmigiano Reggiano. 

Music plays from his phone on the kitchen table and he’s downing the last of his glass when he hears Jensen coming in the door.

“Jay?” Jensen sounds hesitant, yet hopeful, and Jared quickly forgets how Jensen couldn’t answer that one challenge in the alley. 

Jared gets a second glass out and pours wine, ready to hand it off to Jensen because the sauce is thickening and almost ready to be ravaged. Jared definitely plans on ravaging this dish. He’s been soaking up the beautiful, spicy scents for the last half hour and can’t wait to give it a try. 

“What’re you doing?” Jensen asks as he appears in the kitchen.

Jared takes a moment to appreciate Jensen in just a white undershirt tucked into his black slacks, oxford open, and the classic bowtie loose and hanging around his neck. His hair is a bit messy, messier than it normally is after a long Friday shift, and Jared smirks at the way Jensen looks less suave and dopier and more playful. 

“You’re cooking?”

Jared rolls his eyes and the warmth of the alcohol makes him reach out to tuck a few errand strands of Jensen’s hair back into place, parting to the side like Jensen always prefers. “Were you expecting Martha Stewart?”

“You’re punchy,” Jensen replies, smiling when Jared puts the glass of wine in his hand. 

“Of course, I’m cooking, you idiot,” Jared says loftily. He blushes a bit to realize Jensen hadn’t even flinched when Jared went for his hair. He wonders what else he could go for … if he only had the nerve. There is too much at stake to ruin here and Jared realized on his shopping trip that he’d rather have Jensen at arm’s length and as half a friend than none at all. 

Jensen’s eyebrows rise and he smirks. “I also see you’re also drinking?”

“And you’re not.” Jared hands a glass to Jensen and holds his own glass up in a toast. “Thank you for always letting me cook in your kitchen.”

Jensen steps closer and has a warm smile as he lifts his glass up to meet Jared’s. “Thank you for always being here in my kitchen.”

He assumes that’s as good as a shared apology, so he knocks their glasses together and drinks before getting back to his pan. “How was work?”

Leaning in close, Jensen inspects the pan, even sniffs and makes a thoughtful noise.

“Good night?”

Jensen taps Jared’s hip then steps away. “Let’s not talk about the restaurant.”

Jared whips around with wide eyes, suddenly worried that more happened after he left. Maybe Chris was finally over Jared’s shit and got him canned … and now he’ll have to start from the bottom, even lower than where he was at Morgan’s and there’s no way he’ll have any kind of reference from Chris or Aldis or even Morgan and – 

“Stop worrying yourself.” Jensen rubs his arm and squeezes his elbow as he steps up close again. “I just thought it was a sore subject tonight. I’d rather talk about something else.”

“Oh,” Jared sighs. “Okay. Yeah. What should we talk about?”

“How about this carbonara?” Jensen grins while going to the stove to stir the pasta and sauce himself. “Because this smells fucking _amazing_. What’s in it?”

He’s pretty proud of himself, and honored Jensen is so excited for it. Jensen’s always excited for his cooking, but Jared’s always chalked it up to just blowing smoke up his ass rather than actually being interested in all this. But Jensen insisting the restaurant is off–limits tonight and anything else is on the table reaffirms Jared’s hopes that Jensen really does care to hang out. “Miso and garlic sauce.”

“Damn, kid.” He quickly looks to Jared with a crooked smile. “Sorry.”

Jared nudges him out of the way of the stove, but he’s smiling. “It’s not so bad when you say it.”

Jensen scruffs Jared’s hair and playfully shoves at him. Then they’re talking about the dish and Jared’s imagination to flip a traditional Italian dish and Jared’s pretty well forgotten any tension between them before. 

Even better is when he spoons up some of the sauce and gets Jensen to lean in close to taste. There’s a long _mmmmmm_ as Jensen savors it and his eyes are so wide and green when he looks at Jared. 

“This should be on the menu.”

Jared dares himself to continue looking at Jensen, to take the compliment and know his friend truly supports him despite their argument in the alley.

“Fuck Aldis and his cheap ass carbonara.”

Laughing, Jared softly punches Jensen in the stomach. “I thought no talk of the restaurant.”

“Jay, this one deserves a talk about the restaurant.” He pats Jared on the cheek and grins. “One of these days, you’re going to really be on TV and show everyone what you're made of.”

Jared finally looks away, unable to even imagine that possibility. 

“We should tape something and send it in.”

“No, no way,” Jared insists. 

“What’s the worst that could happen? They get your tape and then never call you? That’s no different than what’s happening now.”

Jared rolls his eyes, trying to push the conversation away. “There’s not enough wine to talk about this.” 

Jensen pours them more wine and takes a long sip while watching Jared over the rim of his glass.

Jared can’t stop the laugh or the flutter in his stomach with that look. He gets back to the pan and stirs it all together. “Maybe. Someday.”

Come Monday, Jensen drags Jared into the backdoor of the restaurant, a bandana covering Jared’s eyes. Still, there’s a growing smile on Jared’s face, so Jensen’s sure it’s obvious exactly how they’re stepping up and turning left and then another right, the exact path to the kitchen Jared takes every shift.

“What’re we doing at work?” Jared asks, the bandana still firmly in place.

“Since you’ve spoiled your surprise already, you can take it off.” Jensen sighs, but still hops up on the metal prep table and watches Jared’s face. 

Jared glances around the empty kitchen, as if waiting for something to jump out, maybe an impromptu party, then seems disappointed for a few seconds. His face quickly morphs into the steely indifference he usually shows when up against the reality that he’s on this road pretty much alone. “So, what’s the surprise? 

Jensen shakes his head with a crooked smile, trying like hell to make Jared smile. He’s always trying to make him smile. “For the next two hours, it’s just you and this room.”

Jared looks around again, then watches Jensen closely. “I get to clean an already clean kitchen?”

Wanting to laugh, Jensen bits down on his lip. Leave it to Jared to take a good intention and make it about him having to work. “We’ll have to clean up after, but what you make is up to you.”

Another few moments are wasted as Jared inspects the room, like he’s never seen it before, or maybe he’s seeing it differently. With more opportunities before him. “I get to cook in here?”

Jensen nods and his smile grows as Jared finally catches on with a hitch in his voice. 

“I get to cook … whatever I want … in this kitchen?”

“It’s all yours, Jay.”

Jared’s cheeks go pink and tears build in his eyes. “How did you do this?”

“I owe Chris a few beers,” Jensen admits.

“Just a few?” They both laugh as Jared drags his fingers over the dials of the stove. 

“And I’ll owe him for whatever you use.” He refuses to tell Jared about the 20% of tips, because he’s sure Jared will argue with him over that. Some things are best left unsaid. 

Jared glances over his shoulder with wide eyes, shock and awe so clear on his face. “Are you serious?”

Jensen goes warm all over, both for and with Jared. “I’m totally serious.”

“But why?

“For your birthday.”

Jared’s voice is small when he touches the grill top and admits, “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Jensen swallows at the lump in his throat, clears away the tightness in his chest. “Well, you have to practice for the big show, right?”

“What big show?” 

Another grin and Jensen spreads his arms out. “We’re going to tape you for Masterchef, right?”

Jared rolls his eyes and steps away from the grill top like it’s hot. “No, we’re not.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s stupid. This whole thing is stupid.”

Jensen hops off the counter and comes to stand right in front of Jared. He even drops his head and looks up under his eyelashes to force his point. “Are you saying that my birthday surprise for you is stupid?”

Jared grabs onto Jensen’s hands and squeezes as he insists, “Of course it’s not.”

“Okay, then as a favor back, you’ll let me tape you cooking.” Jensen holds his breath, ready for Jared to continue to argue against it. 

Jensen’s not even sure why he cares so much … but there’s something buried deep that tells him that if he doesn’t help Jared out, then no one will. Jared’s family sure as hell won’t, which always sits sourly with Jensen. Not everyone gets to have a family that lasts, one that witnesses all the growing pains of finding oneself and propping their kids up to be the best they’re capable of.

His own mom died when he was in high school. Late–stage cancer took her quickly, leaving Jensen on his own once he graduated and worked his way through the ranks of the town’s restaurant scene so he could support himself. He’s okay with it all now. It was the hand he was dealt, but he also recognizes that his fervor to be a server is deeply ingrained from his mother, who would help guests before herself and always put Jensen first.

Jensen can feel how his face has fallen with the thoughts racing through his mind and for how much he wishes Jared had more support behind him. And maybe Jensen is all Jared will have, but he’ll do all that he can to push the kid forward. He squeezes Jared’s hands and puts on a tight smile. “So, are you going to let me do this for you? Your ole buddy, ole pal Jensen?”

“Okay, fine!” Jared laughs. “Fine. I’ll cook now and we tape some other day. Deal?”

With a nod, Jensen agrees. “Now what’s on the menu today?”

“What do you feel like?”

“Whatever you feel like making.”

Jared gets to work without another word and Jensen’s stomach rumbles when he sees the ingredients coming together to make a recipe that Jared has been trying to replicate since Jensen had drooled over Jared’s notes: filet mignon with garlic mushroom sauce and au gratin potatoes that he insists on rolling into balls and frying.

“Nothing better than fried potatoes,” Jensen agrees.

“And with cheese.”

Jensen shoots a finger at Jared then heads to the dining room, to the floor–to–ceiling wine display, picks out a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, and brings it back to the kitchen with two glasses. As Jared heats a few pans on the stove top, Jensen opens the bottle and pours them both a glass. He hops back up on the prep table to watch Jared work and passes a glass after Jared has the potatoes boiling on a medium heat, casually stirring every minute or so. 

There’s usually a lot of talking as Jared works, but the kid is fully immersed in his work right, head down and focus on the pans before him. Jensen is happy to watch him work and sits comfortably in the silence as Jared shines behind the fire.

With a quick glance behind him, checking on Jensen and the rest of the kitchen, he grabs the wine and pours some into the bubbling mushroom sauce. 

Jensen hums in approval and Jared parrots the noise with a tiny smile. 

Jared puts his spoon down and suddenly turns back to Jensen, rushing in for a tight hug. “Thank you so much.”

It doesn’t take much convincing to return the hug, patting Jared on the back of the head then rubbing down his spine. “You deserve it, kid.” He tenses for a second, they both do, then Jared pulls back.

There’s a small, awkward smile on Jared’s face when he looks at Jensen. “It really is different when you say it.”

“Good,” Jensen replies, feeling so many warm emotions bubbling to the surface along with the mushroom sauce. 

Jensen’s able to sidestep saying anything about how good it feels to watch Jared in his element when everything comes together and they’re finally tasting the food. 

There are few things on Jensen’s mind now that he’s eating, moaning around another bite of his steak drenched in the mushroom sauce. “Fuck, Jay. This is insane. Do you even realize how good it is?”

“Maybe for you.” Jared’s staring at his plate like he’s cataloguing what he’ll change for the next attempt.

Jensen isn’t sure he can stop stuffing his mouth, everything bursts with beautiful flavors on his tongue. He takes a big bite of the potatoes, savoring the creamy cheese offsetting the salty crisp of the coating. It’s possible he’s incapable of words, the satisfied groans just overtake him. “And these balls? I can’t stop eating them. A total knockout to the taste buds.”

“Yeah?” Jared smirks and raises his eyebrows. “How many balls have you put in your mouth?”

Jensen immediately chokes then coughs through it until he clears his throat and can glare at Jared. 

“At least they’re soft,” Jared replies with his eyebrows up high. It’s all said innocently, but Jensen can see much more in there.

“That’s not always a good thing.”

“Maybe this time they are.” A moment later, Jared adds, “At least they’re not blue.”

Jensen picks up a ball and throws it at Jared, who’s now laughing hysterically and dodging from the hit. The potato ball goes _splat_ on the wall and Jensen groans. Now he will have to clean that mess up, too.

After a long service with a wide grin on Jensen’s face for how happy Jared was cooking in the kitchen, Jensen comes home to a familiar sight. Though this time, it’s a bit surprising.

“What’re you doing here?”

Jared is checking every single cupboard, sighing his way through his search. “How could you not have a cake pan?”

Jensen tugs his tie the rest of the way off and unbuttons his shirt, eyes following Jared moving frantically through the kitchen. “I don’t bake.”

“You don’t cook either and you’ve got plenty for me to work with.” He huffs through his scavenging, grabbing sugar and flour and vanilla, along with chocolate chips and almonds. But they just pile up on the counter as Jared keeps hunting around for _something_.

“Jay, what’s wrong?”

“You don’t have enough stuff for a cake.”

The tension in Jared’s voice immediately puts Jensen on alert and he comes to stand next to Jared. Holding onto Jared’s arm, Jensen carefully pulls him around to face him. “You want a cake? We can go buy you a cake.”

“Will you though?” Jared’s eyes are wide yet soft, lips set in a firm line. “My parents said they’d get me a cake.”

“And they didn’t,” Jensen guesses before he can close his mouth. 

“Of course, they didn’t. It’s my birthday and the only present I got was a $21 check and an application to my dad’s work.”

Jensen hadn’t bothered checking on Jared when he was cut for the night or even when the wait staff went to the bar after work. He figured Jared would spend it with his family. He should’ve known better.

Jared’s face goes pink and his eyes water, but then he quickly turns back to the cupboards and pulls out a bottle of whiskey. “It’s my 21st. I deserve to drink.”

After a deep, calming breath, Jensen puts his hands over Jared’s and eases his voice, betraying the anger that’s firing up over Jared’s family. Sure, Jensen doesn’t have any parents to speak of now, but at least they left him with fond birthday memories.

“And you will have a drink,” Jensen agrees. “And also cake, because I’m not going to let any friend of mine go without a cake on his birthday.”

Jared’s voice shakes when he says, “But you don’t have enough here.”

“Then we’ll go to the store.”

“It’s so late.” Jared tries to turn away, but Jensen pulls him in closer. “I should just go.”

Slowly, softly, Jensen insists, “You should let me get you a birthday cake.”

Jared shakes his head and again tries to move away. “You already did enough today.”

“This is for me, too,” he grins. “Because we’re going to get you some supplies then I’m going to tape you making the best meal you can and –”

There’s a loud huff and Jared’s shoulders slump. “The stupid Masterchef thing again.”

“It’s not stupid. You could totally do it.” Jensen nods at him and tugs on Jared’s hands. “Look, you think I do too much for you? Maybe I _like_ doing all these things to help out my friend. If you do this for me, I’ll stop bugging you.”

In all his petulant, 21–year–old glory, Jared sighs and sulks for a few moments. “Fine. So long as you stop bugging me.”

“Think about how nice and easy your life will be without me harassing you about it.”

“ _So_ easy,” Jared huffs, but he’s starting to smile so Jensen counts it as a win.

And even more of a win is the 24–hour grocery store a few blocks over where Jared can cobble together enough ingredients to try out a boozy red velvet cake and Jensen buys two round cake pans to make it all work.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See the [Main Post for Notes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810424?view_full_work=true)

Jared starts his shift with a long look at Morgan’s wall of fame in the back hallway. He thinks about how Jensen finally filmed him cooking, even had Jared tell some of his story with his family being anything but supportive and what his main drive is for cooking.

It’s been a few weeks since Jensen said he submitted the video, and even though he’s telling himself to forget about it and avoid getting his hopes up, he still stares at the magazine clippings of Morgan and imagines himself on those pages. 

One day, he’ll be the head of the kitchen, the one giving orders. But he won’t do it like Morgan or Chris or Aldis. He’ll give a chance to the new, budding cooks coming into his kitchen. And he’ll walk them through their career, have them practice and cook in the kitchen and show what they're made of. He’ll listen to their suggestions and offer advice with a caring voice and guiding hand.

He’s not there now. Instead, he’s stuck at this restaurant for another grueling night of work. His muscles tense up and he enters the kitchen, where Morgan is inspecting each station before staff get started for the night.

“You finally joining us, Padalecki?” Morgan calls out. 

Jared offers a quick smile and wraps his bandana around his head, pushing hair up under it, before righting his chef’s pants and t–shirt. It’s navy blue, but faded after so many washings, clearly a disaster compared to the pure white of Morgan’s chef’s jacket. “I’m here, sir.”

“You know,” the boss starts loftily, “if you want to do anything in this kitchen, you have to kind of _be here_ to do it.”

He didn’t realize he’d been so lost in thought in the hallway. He knows he walked through the back door with a few minutes to spare before his shift started. The way Morgan is eying him, along with the rest of the staff, tells him he burned up too much time daydreaming in the hallway. 

Early in his time here, Morgan had told him that even one minute is late. One minute could mean burnt scallops or mushy pasta.

“Yes, sir,” Jared responds, any other words lost to the anxiety that begins to grip tight to his spine. 

“Why don’t you get your produce on deck?” Morgan keeps talking over his shoulder as he heads to the main line, where Aldis and Chris are getting pans fired up on the stove. “And then maybe you won’t make us run behind all night again.”

Two minutes later, Chad joins him at the station and Jared thinks about how two more minutes could mean charred steak or dry polenta. “Where’ve you been?” Jared asks under his breath.

“Was just finishing up a deal with Kristen.”

Jared rolls his eyes. If anyone should be in trouble in this kitchen, it should be Chad for selling drugs to the servers. But from what Jared can tell, Chad has gotten quite the pass since Jared started here. “Morgan already chewed my ass out.”

Chad laughs. “Better you than me.” 

“I don’t get why you can get away with everything now.”

With a big smile, Chad claps Jared on the shoulder. “‘Cause you’re here now, bro.”

“Padalecki!” Morgan yells. “Less talking, more chopping.”

Jared takes a deep breath, bottling up the terse _yes, sir_. 

“And try not to butcher the kale this time? Or else I’m sending your ass out for a grocery run.”

Ignoring Chad’s snort, Jared nods and puts his head down to work. Slow and steady, he makes his way through the produce, focused on precise cuts rather than speed. 

Still, Chris and Aldis yell out to the sauce station, which then yells at Jared for veggies and herbs. Jared figures it’s just another shitty night on a shitty station with a shitty crew that he just wants to have a little respect from.

After a long Monday service, Jensen corrals the gang for a night out at the bar down the street from the restaurant.

When the attention of the crowd wanes, he buys another round and has burned through half his tips for the night. But it’s worth it when he clears his throat and gets them to all circle round him and Jared, sitting at the end of the bar.

Jensen kneels upon the stool to be seen by the group and clears his throat to speak. He’s buzzing with excitement and just has to get it all out, yet also wants to say just the right words to really celebrate.

“C’mon, dude, what’s your damage?” Aldis asks before Jensen can open his mouth. 

“Shut up, dick,” Jensen fires back. It takes a moment to recognize Aldis’s dirty look, and even Chris now glaring at him. Then again, for most folks in the kitchen, everyone is just there for themselves. 

Maybe this whole outing was a mistake.

Jensen puts his hand on Jared’s shoulder and smiles at him, warming up when Jared offers a small smile back. This is what it’s all been about. Making this kid happy, helping him find his way, and for all that Jensen thought it was a lost cause, he’s happy to finally show Jared that he’s worth it every second of Jensen’s time.

“I don’t have any good lead into all of this,” Jensen starts. “So, I guess I’ll just get right to it.”

“About time,” Kristen grumbles, crossing her arms. 

Jensen squeezes Jared’s shoulder again. “Our buddy Jared, here, is one lucky fella, and he’s going out to L.A. to audition for Masterchef.”

Predictably, the group is speechless. For all different reasons, though. 

Chris and Aldis look at each other, flat faces apiece, and mouths opening and closing without words. 

Kristen, Danneel, and Tahmoh exchange glances, too, but seem more awed by the idea. Maybe they’re just excited to say they know someone who’ll be on TV, even if for only two seconds. 

Others have awkward laughter, though they also serve up the typical platitudes of _congratulations, good luck_ and start asking all sorts of questions. 

Jared stays completely silent, shocked and wide eyed as he stares at Jensen. He continues to be speechless as more comments file in, a few knocks to his shoulder, or even quick hugs from some of the servers who don’t know much about him to dislike him like the rest of the kitchen. 

Jensen nudges Jared, too, and grins. “How about it, Jay?”

Heavy breathing overtakes Jared and his chest puffs out at an unsteady rate. He shakes his head and continues to stare at Jensen like the news will change the longer he waits to speak, as if Jensen would pull a prank like this on him. 

“Alright, buddy!” Chad yells as he steps up between them. He roughs up Jared by the shoulders then slaps a twenty down on the bar. “Shots on me.” He holds a finger up to Jensen. “For me and Jared. I ain’t buying for the whole bar.”

Jensen raises his hands up and moves to sit on the stool. He eyes Jared as Chad slides a shot over, then elbows him to do it together.

Chad seems awfully excited for Jared, but Jensen also considers that maybe the guy just wants an excuse to drink. 

When Chad’s gone, Jensen leans in closer to Jared. “Are you okay?”

Jared’s eyes close then open wider than before and he shakes his head before taking a long drink from his beer. 

“I thought you’d be excited,” Jensen laughs awkwardly. “This is what you wanted!”

“Yeah, but then …”

Jared props his elbows up on the bar and drops his face in his hands. Jensen immediately rubs at Jared’s back and shifts even closer. His stomach turns with whatever is going through Jared’s head. He’d been so revved up to share the great news and now there’s such a deep pendulum swing that Jensen feels dizzy and, frankly, kind of scared. “What’s going on?”

“If this is …” Jared gulps down another long drink and blinks until he can look at Jensen clearly. Jensen can see there’s more to Jared’s fretful gaze than just the alcohol, or even nerves about the big shot that’s been handed to him. “If it’s true …”

“It’s totally true,” Jensen assures him. “I got the email this afternoon. It was killing me not to tell you earlier.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have done it like this.”

“What?” Jensen looks around them. “I thought you’d want them to see that you made it!”

Jared huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah they seem really interested in that.”

Sure, the group is no longer nearby, going off to their own tables or to start up a game of darts in the corner, but it’s not like there was a particularly bad response to Jensen’s announcement. “Why?”

“Because now they all know about it.”

Now Jensen is the one blinking, trying to clear himself of how confusing Jared is being. “So? They’d see you on TV when it happens.”

Jared finally turns to face Jensen and looks him right in the eye, jaw clenched and lips tight. “No, they won’t, Jensen. Because I’m not going.”

“Are you kidding me?” he nearly shrieks. “Of course, you’re going!”

“Who’s going to pay for that? I don’t make tips like you do, Jensen. And half of what I do make goes to my parents for rent, so how in the hell am I going to pay to fly out there and then be gone for who knows how long to film a stupid TV show?”

Jensen laughs, partly for Jared’s outrage and partly because he’s kind of happy to deliver even more good news to Jared. “Jay, the show pays for all that. And you get some money for being on each episode. At this point, it may even be more than what Morgan pays you.”

Something flashes in Jared’s eyes, like that helps, but there’s something still there. “My parents will never let me go.”

“They can’t stop you,” Jensen argues. Though he knows Jared will have a hard time telling them. “You’re an adult and you can do whatever you want.”

Jared turns back to the bar and drinks. He quickly fires off, “You think it’s so easy because you don’t have parents telling you what to do.” Seconds later, he closes his mouth and frowns. “I didn’t mean …”

Jensen takes a deep breath and recognizes Jared’s anxiety is running him down this hill and the kid doesn’t mean it. After all, being essentially orphaned and alone is a big reason why Jensen does all he can for Jared. Even if he doesn’t have anyone taking care of him, he can look after someone else. 

“I’m sorry, Jensen. That came out wrong.”

“I know,” he mumbles. He takes a drink of his beer and they sit in silence for a few moments as Jensen tries to sort out just what it really is like for Jared to deal with a family like his and to think he can’t have what’s put in front of him. 

“I just never thought about it actually happening,” Jared says quietly. “I mean, of course I dreamed of it, but I never thought it would happen. And now it seems like it can’t happen.”

Jensen runs a hand over Jared’s head and pulls him in for a side hug. “You’re an amazing cook and the people at the show saw that. They want you to go out there and you deserve the chance to do this.”

“What if I suck at it?”

Nodding their heads together, Jensen offers, “And what if you don’t? What if you’re just as awesome as I think you are, and you win the whole damn thing?”

Jared shifts to look at Jensen and they’re close. _So close_ that Jensen can see every fleck of color in those young eyes. 

He wants to wipe away every worry from the kid’s world and show him everything Jensen sees in him. He wants to pull Jared in and protect him from the negativity that surrounds him. He wants to hold him tight and never let go. 

And yet, in all of Jensen’s eagerness to do more for Jared, it feels like it’s just made things worse for him. 

Jensen grabs hold onto his own confidence and pours it out for Jared. He tucks his hand behind Jared’s neck and shakes a little, looks him right in the eyes as sure as he can. “I am going to drive you to the airport, you’re going to L.A., and you are going to show them everything you’ve got in you. And if that means your parents don’t like it and they hate me or tell you to move out, then you can just come live with me and I’ll suffer putting up with you more than I already do.”

Jared laughs, eyes going wet and his smile weak and timid. “I’m gonna hold you to that, because it could really happen.”

“I really don’t care,” Jensen assures him with a broad smile. 

Jared blinks away the tears before they can fall, clears his throat, and finishes off his beer. Jensen doesn’t waste a second to order them another round. There’s still a bit of tension surrounding them, as Jared looks to the rest of their coworkers and Chris and Aldis suddenly break out laughing when they look at Jared. 

“I’ll at least be glad to get away from them,” Jared says with a sigh.

“They’re just jealous,” he whispers in Jared’s ear. 

“They’re better than I am. They could make it.”

Jensen bumps his shoulder into Jared’s. “But they didn’t even try. _You_ did.”

Jared has a reluctant smile when he turns back to Jensen. He bumps back into Jensen and bites his lower lip. “Did I thank you for any of this?”

“Nope,” he replies before downing nearly half his beer. “So, the next round is definitely on you.”

They laugh together and even if Jared still seems apprehensive about the news and the future, Jensen is glad to see the kid’s face light up again.

He’s up for breakfast with the family, even if he has to get his own plate. His parents both seem confused when he makes a plate of eggs and bacon for himself then sits down next to Liam.

His little brother immediately punches his fist towards Jared, a piece of bacon crushed between his fingers. “Hungry?”

“I am buddy, but I got some of my own.” Jared rubs Liam’s head and smiles, though it’s small, because there are bigger things on his mind. 

“Do you work late tonight?” his dad asks, and Jared is so surprised to be asked about work that he just stares at his dad. “Or do you have the night off?”

“No, yeah, I work.”

“If it’s not too late, maybe you can get up early tomorrow.”

Jared looks around the table and his mom is watching, which immediately puts him on edge. “For what?”

His dad finishes a bite of eggs and wipes his lips with a napkin. He seems to take his time to set the napkin back in his lap and watch Jared closely before he explains, “To come into work with me.”

“I don’t really want to – ”

“It’s not about what you want,” his mom says. “It’s about what you need to do.”

“Yeah, but I –” Jared’s cut off again.

His parents go on to _again_ explain all the pros of working at the electric company, like a regular paycheck with more hours, room for advancement, and a chance to join the union for lifelong benefits. His mom even complains that Jared has _played cook long enough_ and it’s time to find a real job.

It doesn’t matter that the biggest con is that it’s not what Jared wants his future to be. Let alone having to work with his dad when he already tries to be anywhere but home most of the time. 

Finally, his dad puts the hammer down. “Jared, if you don’t get yourself a real job, then you have to move out. You have to do something for yourself at some point.”

The threat hits as they probably intended, but Jared shifts gears, knowing he has Jensen as a pretty good back–up plan. “I have some other news,” he finally says. He puts his fork down, even though he has barely eaten anything off his plate. 

“Did you lose your job?” his mom asks, and his dad sighs immediately.

“No. It’s the exact opposite.” He takes a deep breath and pulls the nerve up from somewhere deep down to just get it out and then deal with the wreckage after. “I got an offer to go on Masterchef.”

“Masterchef?” his dad asks.

His mom laughs awkwardly, like he must be joking. “The cooking show?”

“Yeah.” Jared smiles and shrugs as he explains, “Jensen taped me cooking one day and he sent it to the show. They sent him all the info yesterday that I made it to the next round to audition.”

His parents exchange a look before they’re immediately distracted by Lisa throwing a handful of eggs at Liam, who returns the hit with a chunk of bacon. 

“Mama! Liam hit me!” Lisa yells followed by Liam arguing she did it first. They keep throwing more food at each other until both parents get up, grab one kid each, and march out of the room. 

His mom is lecturing them on the way to the twins’ bedrooms and Jared thinks this could maybe be the best–case scenario for this kind of announcement. 

He cleans up the mess the twins have made and dumps his own plate, too. He doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore. Maybe he’ll shower and then stop by Jensen’s and get some leftovers from the pizza they ordered after they finally left the bar late last night. 

Just before he can leave the kitchen, his parents reappear and stand as an impenetrable barrier between Jared and his room. 

Neither are happy, but they’re not exactly mad either, which may be a victory.

“There’s no way you can go to L.A.” His mom announces it so simply, it’s like he should’ve known better than to mention it. 

“Why not?” Jared clenches his fists as he waits for the argument.

“Because we don’t have the money.”

As much as he’d been anxious about it last night, he’s sure glad now that Jensen had explained everything to him. “The show pays for it. They pay for the flights and the hotel. And depending on how long I last, I get some money for that, too.”

“And you have obligations here,” his dad says. “Who’s going to watch the twins while your mom and I are at work?”

A very good question that Jared has no answer for. But now that he’s had a night to consider this opportunity, there’s no way he’s giving up on it. “You’d have to figure that out if I moved anyway.”

They’re quiet for a while and Jared thinks he may need to repeat himself when his mom finally says what he’s thought all along. “Jared, we can’t support this.”

He rocks back on his heels and nods, and then stares down at his feet. Thinking his parents didn’t care about what he did was one thing; receiving the confirmation that they refuse to back him in his dream is something else entirely. 

Taking a deep breath, Jared wills the courage to stand his ground. He thinks of Jensen and how confident he was to convince Jared that this was everything Jared deserves, and more. Drumming up some of that bravado to hold his head high, he firmly says, “I hear you, but I’m still going.”

After a long moment, his mom says, “Okay,” and heads down the hallway to the master bedroom. 

His dad is still there and watching Jared for a bit.

Jared keeps himself steady, forcing himself to not back out. “I’m going,” he repeats. His throat feels thick as his true emotions come to the surface. “All I want to do is cook. It’s my dream and I just want you to support that.”

Nodding, his dad parrots his mom with a flat, “Okay.” Then adds on a lukewarm, “Good luck,” that feels more like goodbye.

The night before Jared’s flight, they get drunk in Jensen’s apartment. It seems fitting to spend the last night before Jared’s new journey in the very place it all started – Jensen’s kitchen.

Jared’s trying to make egg ravioli – now insisting he has to perfect all the usual Masterchef challenges – but his motor skills are impaired thanks to the beer and shots of bourbon. Still, Jensen insists on another shot, laughing when Jared spills half of it down his chin. 

“It’s going to be so weird to be halfway across the country,” Jared says as his fingers botch the fold of pasta dough over the egg yolk. 

Jensen leans against the counter, right next to Jared. This time, he’s not watching Jared work; he’s watching Jared. “Have you ever been to L.A.?”

“I haven’t been out of the _state_ ,” he laughs. “What about you?”

“Once, years ago.” Jensen sips his beer as hazy memories try to form despite the alcohol. “Mom took me to visit her parents once. We even made it to Disneyland.”

Jared looks at him for a while and Jensen blinks back at him. “You hardly ever talk about her.”

Jensen shrugs and drinks again. “I just try to look forward. Not too much living in the past. That’s what she always did.”

“You miss her?”

“Of course.” Jensen feels a twist in his gut at the thought of her smile, her laugh, her encouraging hugs and soft pushes in all the right directions. 

Jared leaves the raviolis alone and shifts closer to Jensen. “What was she like?”

Jensen licks his lips in thought and leans into Jared as he remembers. “She always told me I could do anything I wanted. When I wanted to play baseball, she drew a chalk outline on the side of our apartment building so I could pitch.” He laughs a little. “The building management washed it off, then a few hours later, she’d be out there drawing it again.”

“I didn’t know you played,” Jared says gently. 

Scoffing, Jensen shrugs. “I hardly ever hit the strike zone, but she sure as hell made sure to take me out there every day until tryouts.”

There’s a soft, shaky smile on Jared’s lips, and Jensen’s sure it’s because Jared has no fond stories like that for his own parents. It’s a major reason Jensen doesn’t bother talking about her much with Jared. He knows he got the short end of the stick with her brief presence in his life, but he has hundreds of memories buried deep. Meanwhile, Jared is stuck with parents who leave him with little to no positive moments. 

“You know,” Jared starts, that smile still fragile and eyes big and sympathetic. “I think you’re a lot like her.”

Jensen blinks out of a fog to stare at Jared. “I … what?”

“All you’ve done to help me? Letting me cook whenever I want, giving me keys to your apartment so I can take over the kitchen? The damned Masterchef audition?”

His stomach flutters as Jared counts it all down with so much emotion in every word. He’s grateful Jared sees all that Jensen gives him, yet he never wanted it to seem like a handout. 

Jared runs his hands up and down Jensen’s arms and looks Jensen right in the eyes. “I bet she’d be happy to see that you’re doing all the same things she did for you.”

“Yeah, I guess she would,” he murmurs. 

Suddenly, Jared’s engulfing him in a hug so tight, Jensen can barely breathe. Or maybe it’s just the reaction of having Jared pressed so tight to him. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t such a good friend.”

Jensen is now sure that the way his nerves are vibrating are thanks to Jared, this hug, and the heavy care in his words. 

“Even just being my friend at the restaurant,” Jared goes on, “when everyone was so hard on me.”

He smooths his hands up and down Jared’s back and nudges his head alongside Jared’s. He thinks about pulling Jared in for a kiss … but he doesn’t think he’s had enough to drink for that. Certainly not enough to upend their friendship. “Everything will be so much better when you’re no longer here.”

Jared tenses and pulls back to glare at him. “You mean away from you?”

Jensen blinks at him, unsure what exactly he said to get Jared to turn so quickly. “What? No.”

“You said when I’m no longer here.”

“Jay, I’ll miss you like crazy,” Jensen pushes out with as much emotion as possible. “But you’re getting the chance of a lifetime to prove yourself. Once you’re away from Aldis and Chris and all that mess? You’ll be able to do what you want to do.”

Thankfully, Jared softens. “You think so?”

Jensen shakes him and grins. “You’re gonna go and kick each and every ass you run across on that show, you hear me?”

Jared just nods in return and Jensen grabs hold of his face, bringing him in close to stare right at him. 

There’s a second where Jared leans in further and Jensen thinks this could be it, this could be Jared also wanting to take that next step, when all he wanted to do was berate the kid for not believing in himself enough. 

Jensen takes a deep breath to steady himself. He can’t make a move, not on the night before Jared leaves. Maybe when Jared comes back, then Jensen can better sort through these feelings. Because hell, maybe he really is like his mom and has built himself a savior complex, where he just wants to save everyone. 

Still, he thinks Jared is pretty damned special and deserves all the saving Jensen can manage. 

“You’re going to kick a lot of ass,” Jensen insists. “Or else I’m gonna to kick yours.”

Jared laughs and nods against Jensen’s forehead. “If you’re gonna threaten me …”

Jensen pulls back to see all of Jared’s face, patting his cheek with a smile. “It’s just some friendly inspiration.”

“I’ll need all the inspiration I can get.”

“You call me whenever you need it. I’m always here.”

Jared bites the inside of his mouth, like he’s biting off a smile. “I know.”

Warmth blooms in Jensen’s chest to hear Jared’s confirmation. He’s happy to be Jared’s shoulder to lean on, and he’s so grateful Jared knows it, too.

It’s a whirlwind to fly into LAX and be put up in a hotel with crisp white sheets and fluffy towels, and he spends a good twenty minutes under the hot stream of the fancy glass–encased shower. He even goes for the robe in lieu of pajamas, stretching out on the king–sized bed and attempting to get a smug selfie to send to Jensen.

He barely sleeps, anxiety fraying all his nerves and making him jittery. By the time he gets to the audition, he’s a shaking, exhausted mess. 

Something pushes him forward as he’s shuffled around the large set and awestruck to see all the same flooring, signage, and cooking stations he’s seen on TV all these years. To actually be here is surreal and he continuously thinks he’s dreaming until someone’s nudging him in another direction for the next camera set–up. 

The crowd of contestants and their families gather in the front courtyard, boisterous applause when a producer announces the judges, who exit the studio to greet them. It’s all the same formal entrance Jared has watched each season, but this is high charged and _loud_ , the whole crowd thrumming with excitement for the show, not to mention the judges. 

A producer steps up to introduce each of the culinary celebrities and all of their accolades.

There’s Sebastian Roché, the lead judge and star of Fox’s cooking shows the last 10 years. The classically trained French chef has five Michelin–star restaurants in the U.S., a dozen other restaurants in Europe, and a whip–crack snark that has taken down numerous contestants in the past.

Beside Roché is Mark Sheppard, well known for a prestigious chain of pubs and grills all across the country. His restaurant concepts have elevated pub food into the illustrious gastropub fare. 

Last, but not least, is the Cooking Channel’s darling Sterling K. Brown. Jared has spent more mornings than he can count watching Sterling’s _Down Home_ cooking show, featuring all sorts of southern classics and modern twists on creole. 

Roché laughs off all the hysteria of the crowd and immediately runs through his spiel about this being the world's greatest home cook competition. 

“There is no other show on the planet that offers the opportunities that we present to you this year,” Roché announces. “There’s the $250,000 prize, the honor of being crowned this year’s Masterchef, and a new addition for this year ... our crowned Masterchef will receive training in one of Sterling’s ten restaurants across the country.”

That catches Jared’s breath. The chance to train under a famous chef in a pristine kitchen. It’s what he thought he was getting at Morgan’s, but … fuck Morgan. Jared doesn’t need him or his restaurant anymore. He’s here, on this show. It’s Jared’s time to shine; not Aldis or Chris, and not even Morgan. 

Sheppard picks up the next lines to explain, “And your chance to win it starts right now. We want to see your signature dish. Show us your personality on a plate. We want to taste what drives you to be the next Masterchef.”

“Cook your hearts out,” are Sterling’s parting words, and Jared’s mind flashes back to Jensen’s, to that tiny apartment where he’s cooked his heart out for the last year and a half. Where his greatest ally has cheered him on for every ingredient and each sprinkle of seasoning. Where Jensen gave him the training grounds to be here at this moment.

Once he’s in the kitchen with three sets of intimidating eyes on him, he knows what he’s cooking. Or rather, who he’s cooking for … Thinking about Jensen helps steady his nerves, though they’re right there under the surface. He can feel his heart racing and muscles tensing with every move, knowing he’s finally here on this stage.

Jared starts the pancetta in a skillet with a thin layer of oil. In a larger pan, he whisks the chili garlic sauce, miso, and hot water together then beats in some eggs. He’s only done this once before, but it was a home run and he’s going to rely on what this meal was capable of doing that night in Jensen’s apartment – reaffirm Jared’s drive and allow him and Jensen to move beyond their little tiff. 

Anything to remind him of Jensen will have to be the driving force in this competition – the one person who will always be in his court and will be his greatest cheerleader. Just from afar … very, very far. 

He turns down the heat to medium and stirs a few times before checking on the pasta boiling on another fire. Everything is working out timing–wise, which is of course when a camera comes up to his side and a producer starts asking questions.

“What’s going into that pan now?

Jared clears his throat and turns to the camera to answer. 

“No, not the camera,” the producer instructs. “Look at me or the food.”

He nods and takes a deep breath to settle his nerves. Cooking under this kind of pressure and for these kinds of discerning palates is bad enough. Now he’s thinking about the camera and what it sees when it’s on him, or how he sounds, or what words will come out and how foolish he’ll be to the audience … if he even makes it to the final airing. 

“I have a carbonara sauce here and then some linguine in the pot.”

“Do you think a carbonara will be enough to wow the judges?”

Jared stirs it all together in between glances at the sauce, which will need another round of stirring before adding in the pasta and working on the consistency with cheese and the reserved pasta water. “I hope so, yeah. It’s not a plain carbonara though. It’ll be spicy with the chili sauce.”

“Chili sauce in a carbonara?”

He looks at the producer and feels his stomach sink at the prospect that he’s come all this way only to be shut down on his first opportunity. “I know it’ll surprise them,” he amends. 

“And where’s your fan club today?”

“I’m here by myself today.” He keeps his head down, his head in the game, and shakes off the anxiety building quickly. Then he corrects, “I’m here for myself today. My family doesn’t support this. But I’m doing this for me.”

And that thought carries him to the grand stage where the three judges await him and his dish. He sets the plate on the serving table and stands tall with his hands tucked together at his back. 

“Tell us about yourself,” Roché instructs as he spins his plate to inspect the pasta from all sorts of angles.

“I’m 21 years old, but I’ve been cooking since I was 10. More seriously when I was 15 and got a job working in a little diner. Nothing has mattered to me more than food, to put my hands to work and create something that makes people happy.”

“And who’s here with you?”

Jared sucks in a sharp breath, having to think about it again. “No one’s here.”

“No parents?” Sterling asks and Jared shakes his head.

“Not even a friend or two then?” Sheppard suggests and Jared takes a deep breath.

He thinks about Jensen. It’s about all he’s thought about while cooking, and that’s enough to not make him fall apart under the continued questions about him being here alone. “My parents don’t support me in this. But I’m driven to be here with the support of a good friend. I’m excited to be here to cook for you all.”

“That’s a shame,” Sheppard says, surprisingly with a dash of empathy mixing with the gruff facade he always showcases on these shows.

“If you’re on your own with cooking,” Sterling says slowly, with an odd tilt of his head. Like he already doesn’t trust what Jared’s able to do. “Then where do you get to cook?”

He swallows hard and blinks a few times to get his bearings right. “With my friend. I cook for him at his apartment and he said this was one of his favorite things I’ve made.” 

Sterling and Sebastian share a look, and Jared suddenly fears he’s gone too simple on the display. The colors don’t pop on the plate like his competitors before him. Then he worries over the flavors, if the chili is too strong after sitting around in between filming or if the eggs have settled or the cheese broke the sauce. 

“And what is it that you’ve made?” Roché asks.

Jared clears his throat and announces, “Today I’ve made for you spicy miso carbonara.”

His heart continues beating loud and steady in his ears and that’s all he can hear when the judges talk about his dish. Roché is mildly impressed, while Sheppard is wholly against it. Sterling, though, is a saving grace when he commends Jared’s balanced flavors.

In true reality show style, there’s a long deliberation with the judges whispering to one another while Jared stands there with his hands tucked behind his back. 

He’s sure he’s going to be cut right here, right now. He flew all this way just to get a lukewarm reception. The producers only seemed interested in Jared’s back story, and the judges have waved him off quickly, even when stretching this out as they continue to talk. 

Jared drops his head with a heavy sigh. Jensen may have had some faith in him, but Jared’s sure he doesn’t have enough to get past today.

It’s so unearthly late for Jensen, but with the time change, he’s happy to be woken by a call from Jared.

“So how was your first day?” Jensen asks, excited yet groggy when it’s nearly three in the morning in his time zone. 

They used to stay up late together with Jared taking over the kitchen, but Jared’s not here to keep him up, so Jensen had decided to call it an early night. He kind of regrets that now, though he is glad the phone was loud enough to wake him. He’d hate to have missed this call.

“I made the miso carbonara,” Jared replies. 

There’s a hint of happiness there, though Jensen’s not sure if he’s imagining it while he’s still half asleep.

Jensen turns to his back and stretches out in bed. Trying hard to wake up for Jared, he clears his throat and rubs a hand over his face. “Did they love it as much as I did?”

“They … uh. It was touch and go.”

“Why?” Jensen shuffles up to sit back against the wall. “What happened?”

Jared sighs through the phone. “They said it was something they’ve seen lately, so it didn’t seem that inventive.”

He grips his phone tightly and waits for Jared to continue. When he doesn’t, Jensen demands, “But? There’s a but there, right?”

“Buttttt they saw a lot of promise and I got a second chance. Don’t tell anyone though! I’ll get in trouble for talking about it!” 

“Oh my God!” Jensen laughs out his nerves, folding himself down to rest his head on his knees. He can’t imagine what would happen if Jared hadn’t made it through the first day. He’d been worrying over it, yes. Thinking about how he pushed Jared towards this opportunity, and then if Jared was cut in the first round, Jensen had been building up a massive amount of guilt when he really considered it. 

He also tried to convince himself he wouldn’t hear from Jared until the kid was sent back home. 

“So, they’re stuck with me a little longer,” Jared chuckles. “And you’re stuck living a boring life of Pop Tarts and pizza rolls without my cooking.”

“Jared, I swear, I will live without your cooking so long as you’re winning that damn show.”

“Well, I don’t know about winning, but I’m glad it wasn’t just some kind of joke to come out here only to be sent back home.”

“Of course, it wasn't a joke.” Jensen stretches out in bed again, feeling warm all over from Jared’s own happiness and his accomplishment, even for just the first day. 

“Or maybe a dream? I don’t know. I still can’t believe I’m here.”

Jensen grins. “Well, believe it, kid. _You. Are. There._ ”

“It was almost as nerve wracking cooking for the judges as it is to be in Morgan’s. But then the night ended a hell of a lot better, so I guess I can’t complain.” Jared laughs before rushing on to say, “And the other contestants are pretty nice. We went to dinner tonight and I got to talk to a few. I know the show goes for drama and rivalries, but I think we’ll all be pretty okay this season. And can you believe I’m the only one who actually works in a restaurant?”

“Well, yeah,” Jensen replies, pushing the _duh_ with a smile. “It is a _home cook_ show.” 

“I know, but I just thought there might be some more people who actually cook for a living.”

“I bet they were all impressed with you then.”

“They’re more focused with my age and that I’m here alone,” Jared complains. 

Jensen can imagine how much the show is going to milk that. And he hates knowing how the first auditions have contestants and all their families there to cheer them on, while Jensen had to stay behind to work, plus Jared’s parents haven’t bothered to talk to him since Jared told him he made the show. Still, Jensen assures him, “You know I’m here cheering you on. A few time zones away, but I’m always here for you.”

“I know,” he replies softly. “It just feels weird to be out here doing this alone, you know? It’s not the same as cooking in your kitchen.”

Jensen chuckles. “I really hope it isn’t the same. They probably have a lot more pans than I do.”

“ _So_ many pans. More than Morgan’s.” A second later, Jared switches gears. “Speaking of, how is Morgan’s?”

The subject change is swift, and Jensen has to stop and think about it for a bit. 

The restaurant has been oddly quiet. Good, but just a different kind of energy in the place. No one has mentioned Jared or the show, though it’s still early, Jensen supposes. It’s only been two nights of service, but it still seems a little dimmer to be at work, especially when Jensen goes to pick up his tickets in the kitchen and Jared’s not there at his station. He finds that there’s not much to look forward to after he’s off work.

“Same ole shit,” Jensen says instead. “Now tell me all about your hotel and all the fancy L.A. things you’re going to do while you’re there.”

“Welcome to the eleventh season of Masterchef!” Roché calls out to start the show.

Jared and the 19 contestants in the large studio all applaud and he can feel the electricity thrumming through his system. 

This is real.

It’s happening.

Jared is here and he is doing this. 

“Not just any home cook can call themselves a Masterchef,” Roché goes on. “But one of the 20 cooks in this room will survive a grueling run of challenges and eliminations to stand on this very stage and be crowned the next Masterchef!”

The contestants cheer again, and Jared can’t stop how he bounces on the balls of his feet, or twists his fingers into the sides of his jeans, or struggles to hear over the thundering beat of his heart. 

Jared’s glad he’s set up in the last row in the studio, far enough from the judges to only be a little shell–shocked to be in the same room as them. When the producers assigned stations, a few of them had joked they were like the bad kids in the back of the class. Jared’s never been a bad kid, but it’s fun to already be talking to his fellow contestants and getting to know them. 

To his right is Jim Beaver, a fisherman old enough to be his grandfather, but that seems to be exactly why everyone likes him immediately. He seems warm and thoughtful, which may be a shock to his trucker’s mouth to go along with the trucker’s hat. 

Jim looks over and shares a smile as the judges continue with their introductions to the show, words Jared has heard ten times before. He could probably recite the whole damn thing himself. 

Sheppard steps forward and motions to the contestants at their stations. “Before each of you is your very first skills test. A Masterchef is nothing without the ability to master the basics. Today, you have just 20 minutes to dice three onions, filet a fish, and separate two dozen eggs.”

Across the aisle to the left is Genevieve, a mom of two young boys and a self–proclaimed creative geek. She spent most of last night’s dinner telling the group about all the crafting, photography, and baking she does with her kids. This morning, already, she’s chatted on and on about all the baking she does with her close friend, who owns a cupcake shop. Everyone seems to agree that she’ll be winning every dessert challenge. 

“Looks like this challenge is for you,” she tells Jared. 

He just shrugs, because, yeah, he’s the only one here who’s worked in a restaurant, but his nerves are on overdrive and he’s not sure he’ll hold the knife without cutting himself. 

Jared stares at the items on his station and he thinks he can get the onions done quickly, after all those months spent on the prep station. The eggs seem pretty simple, so long as he’s careful enough to avoid breaking any yolks. The fish is questionable, though he has spent the last few weeks trying to school himself in challenges he knows the show tosses to the cooks. Breaking down a chicken, deshelling shrimp, and fileting fish were on his list. He thinks he’s pretty good on the first two; the latter will be a real test today.

Ahead of him, Katie turns around and mouths _good luck_ with a broad smile. They’d bonded quite a bit at dinner when she admitted she was on this adventure with just her boyfriend to support her. She’s a nurse’s assistant, working her way up to registered nurse, and had learned to cook from her father before he passed away last year. 

There’s a moment of calm when he thinks about how quickly he’s already gotten to know a few of the contestants around him. The energy between them is encouraging and full of smiles and hugs already – a stark contrast to his life back home. 

As he studies the food before him, Sterling announces, “The ten best cooks in this skills test will move on to the balcony to watch the bottom half try to survive our very first elimination test. Again, you have 20 minutes to finish all three tasks with the precision and speed of a real Masterchef. Your time starts now!” 

Jared takes his time with the first onion, finding his groove to dice precise pieces. When the judges start yelling at the contestants to get a move on, hurry up and manage time, be sure they’re perfect in every move, Jared’s heart ratchets up even higher and his knife moves faster and faster. He’s flashing back to Morgan’s with Chris and Aldis yelling at him for his knife work and suddenly, he has to stop everything. 

He puts his knife down and counts to ten, gets his bearings back and remembers he’s in this competition now. He’s not at Morgan’s. And while the judges are shouting out all sorts of directions, they’re not singling Jared out … not yet.

He grabs the second onion and starts cutting, managing something between efficiency and exactness so he can move on to the third onion as soon as possible and then to the fish.

Fileting is a bit more manic than the onions and Jared knows he’s ripping this fish apart, but he’s only got seven minutes left now and two dozen eggs waiting for him. He figures the filet will be the worst of the three skills. 

With a little over five minutes left, Jared eyes the clock and starts cracking eggs on the counter. 

“Oh goddammit,” Jim calls out to Jared’s right.

Jared looks over and sees the man digging shells out of the bowl, then cracking an egg on the side of the bowl and has to catch a broken yolk. 

With a little smile, Jared continues cracking eggs on the counter, having learned from Sterling’s show over a year ago that there’s a higher likelihood to crack yolks and get shells in your bowl if you try to use the rim instead. That little trick helps him crack twenty perfect eggs in the remaining time, not a shell to be seen on his station.

When the 20 minutes are up, the judges march around the stations and inspect the three items at each station. There’s some cringing when Roché discovers onions cut in all sorts of shapes at the first station. “Did I ask you to cut diamonds. No. We asked for perfect squares.”

Or when Sheppard lifts a truly mutilated skeleton with stringy bits of fish hanging off it. “Were you using a spoon?”

Sterling’s eyes widen at Genevieve’s bowl of eggs, then he lets out a low whistle. “Alright, girl. I see you know how to handle your eggs.” He even brings the bowl to those in the immediate area to show off 20 perfect yolks. 

Genevieve preens a bit, tucking hair behind her ear as the fellow contestants clap for her immediate pass to the balcony. 

“Simply perfect,” Roché raves as he steps up to Jared’s station. “And what do we have here?”

Sheppard immediately goes for the filet, pulling at random pieces of fish Jared had missed on the bones. “Looks like we've got a massacre on our hands.”

Sterling leans in to whispers not so subtly, likely for the cameras to still catch. “Not as bad as Stephen’s.”

Jared looks ahead to the second station, where Sheppard had berated a middle–aged single father for possibly using the wrong utensils to cut his fish. Jared’s hopes immediately fall to be grouped together with such a piss–poor performance. 

If his hopes could go even further, they would when Roché thumbs through the onions. “Some are pretty well done here, but the consistency is so off.” He looks at Jared. “And you said you worked in a restaurant?”

Clearing his throat, Jared tips his head up to project some kind of confidence, even when he’s failing to find any at the moment. “Yes, sir. On the prep station.”

“The prep station.” Sheppard repeats with a harsh laugh. “Oh, son, I really do hope they have back–up if this is what you’re doing on the _prep station_.”

Aside from Sheppard’s laughter, the room is quiet and tense. Jared looks around to find the contestants watching him. His anxiety kicks in and his hands won’t stop shaking as Roché tsks then moves onto Jim’s station. 

Jim fares much worse for all his broken eggs, though his filet is quite nice, which Jim accounts for his decades of fishing in the Pacific Northwest. 

In the end, Jim joins Jared and eight others in the bottom 10. 

Now Roché announces the remaining cooks have one hour to cook a major protein of their choice. 

“But please, not the butchered fish,” Sheppard adds on.

The crowd laughs, but Jared grits his teeth when he looks down at his own mutilated filet. 

Once they’re given the green light, the 10 of them race for the pantry and Jared gathers up all he can for scallops with a pesto sauce and a cheesy polenta. He knows it’s dangerous to put a delicate thing like scallops with their short cook time up against polenta, which requires a good half hour to cook and lots of attention to keep stirring. 

Still, he knows he’s here to show what he can do, and he’ll shoot as high as he can.

The kitchen is rather subdued while Jensen waits for the final dish to complete the order for Table 10. To go along with the eerie tension, it seems like Chris and Aldis are running behind on almost every order. Jensen stops himself before he sighs again, and Morgan shoots him a harsh look.

That already happened when he picked up the appetizers for Table 8 and he’s not about to be kicked out of the kitchen an hour into his shift. He learned long ago that servers need to keep the kitchen happy or else the orders suffer for it, which means their tips do, too. 

Morgan still senses Jensen’s presence and barely looks at him while fussing tickets on the expediting shelf. “What do you want, Ackles?”

“Waiting on 10,” he replies evenly. 

“It’ll come when it comes.”

Jensen licks his lips and takes his time to stay calm. Three other dishes for this order are under the heater and he fears the plates will die at the pass if the last meal doesn’t show up in the next minute or two. “It’s been almost 30 minutes.” At least five minutes since the other three plates were done, but he doesn’t say that part aloud.

Aldis and Chris are working pans on the fire. Food is cooking, yet it doesn’t seem like anything is really moving forward. 

Still, Morgan says, “It’ll come when it comes. Don’t you see that the kitchen is slammed?”

Jensen motions towards the heater, where his three other plates are lit by the golden warmth. “What about the carbonara and steak?”

Now he looks at Jensen, eyes dark and lips in a firm line. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

“I just don’t want my other plates to die and – ”

“We don’t get an hour to cook one dish,” Morgan grumbles. “Now get out of my kitchen until your chicken’s ready.”

With a nod, Jensen backs out of sight and waits near the hallway leading back into the dining room. 

Moments later, he hears Morgan yelling at Chris and Aldis. “Get your asses in gear or else I’m walking behind that line and finishing your job tonight.”

Jensen flinches at Morgan’s bellowing voice, though he’s a little happy to know the guy will actually go after his own chefs when needed.

Danneel is there entering orders into the touchscreen. Without looking at him, she asks, “What’s up?”

Now he can sigh, knowing she’ll understand the plight of waiting too long to get an order on the table. “Waiting on a parmesan chicken.”

She glances towards the kitchen and shakes her head. “They’ve been off all night.”

“What’s the deal? I get when there’s a bad night, but not even Morgan seems like he cares about it?”

Another look beyond Jensen and Danneel lowers her voice. “Jared.”

Jensen narrows his eyes and forces himself not to look to the kitchen again. If anyone sees them both gossiping here while checking back on the kitchen, he’s sure they’ll get yelled at and the kitchen will push their orders back even more, which will ruin the rest of their nights. “What about Jared?”

“I heard Chris bitching about him. Or about the show, I guess.”

Standing up straight, Jensen considers what that really means. The theme of last night’s episode was international cuisine and Jared drew the Indian flag. He’d presented a chicken curry full of vegetables, earning only minimal criticism for being a tad on the rich side. Sterling had been impressed by Jared’s use of squash, red peppers, and okra – of all things – to modernize the dish. Sheppard, in particular, applauded Jared’s addition of crispy pancetta and a perfectly toasted crostini to dip in the sauce.

“They’re mad he did well?” Jensen asks, then repeats it to himself as more of a revelation. 

Danneel makes a face and Jensen laughs.

“Holy shit, they’re mad he did well.” 

Morgan’s _we don’t get an hour to cook one dish_ runs through his mind and he laughs again. 

“They’re _jealous_.”

Danneel smiles in agreement before heading back into the dining room, leaving Jensen to think about it again. 

It makes him grin, especially when he sneaks closer to the kitchen to see if his chicken parmesan is up on the shelf and he can hear them bitching. 

“Chicken curry with pancetta,” Aldis says while shaking a pan on the stove top to spoon butter over a rib–eye. “Can you believe that shit.”

“Pork in a Middle Eastern dish,” Chris adds on. “I do not believe that shit.”

Even if this attitude is ruining Jensen’s service, there’s satisfaction in the moment. They’re not cracking jokes about Jared trying to make it on a cooking competition and they haven’t asked Jensen about it since Jared left. Their complaints, the _jealousy_ , is a sweet kind of revenge for all the crap they gave Jared in the kitchen. 

Jensen grins when he thinks about telling Jared about this turn of events.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See the [Main Post for Notes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810424?view_full_work=true)

Five episodes in and the competition is dwindling. They’re down to 15 contestants and stations throughout the studio sit empty, emphasizing the fact their time here is precious.

Each of the remaining stations have a big wooden box covering today’s Mystery Box Challenge. Jared fiddles with it and considers lifting it for a quick peek, but the numerous producers and cameras all around them reminds him someone is always watching. 

This morning, he’d started his day with a one–on–one interview where he had to recount all that happened the day before in a team challenge. It was pretty uneventful for him, but the producers also kept pushing at him about his homelife. They’re constantly asking, seeking out that one good clip to play while he’s cooking, to reinforce the sympathy that he knows people at home are posting about all over social media. 

He doesn’t mind that people are cheering for him, faceless fans that want him to make it through as far as possible. What he does mind is having to talk about his parents every day, repeat the fact that his parents have basically kicked him out for being here, and continue to lament how his future is unclear. 

Jensen’s place will be a pretty solid back–up plan for when Jared first gets back to town, but he knows he can’t rely on that for too long. And he’s not so sure he wants to tell the producers much about that. He doesn’t even want Jensen to know just how much he thinks about him, and if Jared says anything to a camera, he’s sure it’ll end up on the broadcast.

Besides, he’s not sure how long he could stand to live in Jensen’s space. In the time he’s been here, far from Jensen and surviving on brief check–ins in the middle of the night, Jared has realized just how deep his feelings for his friend truly go. It’s like missing a limb or walking through his days with an empty chest. He’s surviving most of the challenges in the middle of the pack, rising to the occasion when under a timer with food on his station. Yet, all the in–between times reinforce just how lonely he really is.

Jensen has said time and again that he’s in Jared’s corner, except Jared’s life is pretty empty right now, outside of nightly dinners with the other contestants. Socializing with new people, ones who are open and excited to form the unusual bond of living through a high–octane competition like this, has been a brand–new experience Jared is thankful to have. 

Sometimes, late at night, when he’s staring at the ceiling and unable to sleep through the anxiety of being alone, he thinks he’d trade it all to have Jensen. To have more of Jensen than he’s had before. 

A producer counts down to the judges’ entrance, encouraging everyone to greet Roché, Sheppard, and Sterling with excited applause. Jared’s subdued with slow clapping and can barely focus on what’s being said until he sees Jim lifting the box to reveal a full chicken. 

“Today’s challenge,” Sterling announces with glee, “Is to break down this whole chicken in eight pieces. How many of you have done this before?”

A few hands go up, with Jared’s barely above his shoulder.

Sheppard laughs cruelly. “I’m about to enjoy this a hell of a lot, aren’t I?”

Roché folds his hands together near his chest and grins. “For those who haven’t had the glorious experience before, you are about to have the pleasure of watching a master show you how it’s done.”

Sheppard steps forward, only to be pushed back by Sterling. 

“C’mon man,” Sterling complains, but then he grins at the contestants.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Roché says with a formal sweep of his hand. “I present to you, the Count of Chicken, the Prince of Poultry, and the Lord of Legs.”

The group laughs and even Jared has to smile at the absurdity. 

“I present to you … Mr. Sterling K. Brown to show you how it’s done.”

The contestants gather round the front station while Sterling sharpens a few knives and flits his eyebrows. “You ready, kids?”

Jared is thankful for his height so he can see over Jim and Michael to watch Sterling’s deft movements. It’s a swift nine cuts to quarter the bird then break it down into eight clean pieces. 

After all the required ooh–ing and ahh–ing, everyone is sent back to their station to get to work, with just 20 minutes on the clock. 

It’s been a few weeks since Jared was practicing in Jensen’s kitchen and butchered a handful of chickens, all for this moment. His hands are shaky and his concentration is elsewhere as he cuts through the chicken in an attempt to get the breasts, wings, thighs, and drumsticks all sectioned off. 

When time is up, Jared knows he’s failed. Another day of poor knife work. He’s certain there’s no chance for him to get up to the balcony and he’s set for another Pressure Test to save himself from going home tonight. 

He doesn’t even bother responding to anything the judges have to say about his sloppy chicken pieces. It just feels like another night in Morgan’s, being berated for his too–big hands fumbling with anything sharp. 

Genevieve, Jim, and Katie all make their way to the balcony, each granting Jared a quick smile of support. Now he’s set to cook in the bottom half with six other contestants trying to survive for one more day in the competition.

In a twist of cruelty, Roché announces they now have one hour to cook a full meal with the chicken they just cut up.

Jared surveys what’s left of the bird on his station. The breasts are a lost cause unless he wants to chop them up and go with some kind of rice or pasta dish. The wings and drumsticks aren’t too bad, so maybe he’ll fry them up and go with some buffalo sauce. 

A second later, he shakes his head and knows that’s a terrible choice. Too cliché. 

The only person near him is Malik, who is a row ahead of him all the way to the left. The guy steps over and offers Jared a fist to bump. “Let’s get it, buddy.”

A week ago, Jared learned that Malik often skipped the group’s nightly dinners so he could go back to his hotel room and call home. Malik had joked that as an accountant working crazy hours, he’s kind of glad to be under a different kind of pressure. Though he sure as hell misses his twin daughters about the age of seven; that, Jared had bonded with him over, as he shared pictures of Liam and Lisa and told stories of how Liam is always crying out about whatever Lisa does.

There's a bright gleam to his eyes and smile when he hits Jared’s fist and Jared thinks about how Malik deserves this far more than he does. With a crazy job and a wife and kids at home just wanting more time with him, winning Masterchef would give them all a huge break and allow Malik to do what he’s always wanted to do – make a life with food. Jared’s always wanted to cook, too, but he supposes he has a few more years to go to really feel the guilt of a missed career like Malik has mentioned. 

Jared tries to smile at his new friend, but he knows it’s forced. Malik does, too, because his smile dims and he slowly moves back to his station, looking a little more excited for his own challenge. 

They’re let loose in the pantry as the hour starts counting down and Jared finds himself in front of the shelves of spices and herbs, trying to read the labels. There are so many, and his concentration is off, so it takes some time to clear away the fog and figure out what’s available. 

Suddenly, something clicks, and he reaches for the ancho chile pepper, onion powder, cumin, cayenne pepper, and a whole host of other bottles. Then he’s racing across the pantry for all the ingredients he’ll need for his sauce, with a second stop at the fridge to pick up some cheese. 

Back at his station, he pats down the chicken to ensure the oil and rub will stick just right. That’s when the camera and producer move in and, of course, they want to address his performance in the skills test.

“And how does it feel to be in the bottom now?” the producer asks.

“It sucks,” Jared says without thinking. Still, he repeats it, because it’s true. “It sucks and I hate that I did so badly on that. I had practiced before coming here and I thought I’d do a lot better than that.”

Now he’s pressing the spices all along the wings, getting the rub into every little nook. His attention continues to be laser focused on his station, even when the producer keeps prodding.

“You seem kind of distracted today. Not like the Jared we know.”

_They don’t know me_ , he thinks. Instead, he sighs and nods. “Yeah, I am. It’s rough being out here and far from what’s back home.”

“Like your parents? Do you think they're watching back home?”

Jared closes his eyes for a moment then pushes himself forward to work on the drumsticks. “No. I mean, I know they’re not watching.”

“Have you talked to them since you've been here?”

“No, I haven’t talked to them.” Jared gulps down the building emotion, because he doesn’t want to face these questions all over again, especially when he’s trying to salvage what’s left of today’s competition. “But I miss my friend,” he admits with a frown. “I cooked for him a lot and it was a lot of fun. A lot easier than this.”

The producer laughs. “Do you miss being back home?” 

“I don’t miss much back home, but I do miss him.”

“Great, yes, thank you, Jared,” the producer says before moving onto Malik and grilling him about his girls back home.

Jared curses himself for speaking so frankly to the camera and now he worries what Jensen will think when he watches this episode. 

Then he freezes when he thinks about what Jensen will say if Jared fails this challenge and comes home early. For months, Jensen has insisted Jared could win this show, and now Jared could be sent home on a _fucking chicken_ , he curses to himself quietly.

Jared sets the last drumstick to the tray and gets the chicken in the oven. The oven door slams in a rather satisfying way and he considers himself shutting off all those negative thoughts to get through the rest of this challenge.

The hour flies by as he pulls together a finished plate. He’s more than a little excited with his creation when he steps up to the judges’ stand to put the dish down. 

“Today, I have for you dry rub spiced wings and drumsticks with a creamy gorgonzola cheese sauce and hand–cut shoestring fries and smoked ketchup.” He presses his lips together to hold off a big smile, because he can smell the spice of the rub as well as the gorgonzola. And while the fries may seem like too simple of a side dish, they’re golden brown and gleaming in the light with a perfect crisp.

Sheppard eyes the plate then Jared and steps up while clearing his throat. “Wings and chips, eh?”

When Jared nods, Sheppard sighs.

“Jared, do you really think this is enough to stay here? Are you giving up already?”

Jared quickly shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

“Do you want to be here?”

“Absolutely, yes.” And Jared finds he absolutely means it, even when he can feel himself frowning. 

While brainstorming his choices for the wings, he had a sudden burst of inspiration propelling him forward. He’s alone, yes, and the show wants to milk it all. But once he allowed himself to accept that, yes, he misses Jensen, and he’s already growing tired of being all the way out here, so far from his only friend, he was able to then remind himself he is in this competition _because of Jensen_. 

For all that Jensen has done for Jared, Jared owes him a hell of a lot in return and he knows he has to do this for Jensen. 

Sheppard is still eying him, shaking his head, and being his typical terse self as he checks out a chicken wing and finally takes a bite. He takes a few fries, dragging them through the spicy ketchup sauce Jared added at the end, and dips a spoon into the gorgonzola to taste a little bit. 

Jared waits for the backlash for such a simplistic dish, especially from someone who has made his career on elevated bar food. Sheppard will have the highest of standards for a chicken wing.

“You know, Jared, I just don’t know what to say about this.” Sheppard turns back to Roché and Sterling. He mumbles a little before motioning them in to also get a taste before he gives his final verdict.

Once Sterling has had a bite of the drumstick, dipped in the cheese, and then eats a few fries, Jared finally gets a reaction from the panel. 

“I have to agree with my esteemed colleague,” Sterling says. “I’m not sure what there is to say about this chicken wing.” Slowly, at a snail’s pace, Sterling’s mouth opens in a sly smile. “Except _hot damn_. That’s some spicy chicken. _Good_ spicy. It’s tickling my taste buds right now and I just want to dive back into the gorgonzola to cool it all down.”

Roché starts nodding as he picks up a few fries. “And these? These shoestrings?” He holds a few fries up, lined up together and looks right over them to Jared. “Do you see this? Do you see how perfectly these are cut? This isn’t the same Jared we saw in the first week with the shoddy onions.”

“No, this ain’t the same kid,” Sterling adds in before putting his hand up for Jared to give him a high five.

The contestants all start clapping and cheering for Jared, and he grins as he smacks Sterling as hard as he can. “Thank you,” he says with a lot of power behind it. “Thank you so much.”

Sterling points at him. “You are _showing up_ , Jared. Keep on doing it.”

Jared sucks in a deep breath, body shaking a little with the excitement of such a glowing review. “Yes, sir.”

Roché takes another few fries to eat and winks at Jared. He then puts the plate down under the table to the dish bin as he says, “Grand job, my boy.”

As Jared heads back to his station, he runs his hands through his hair and laughs a little too deliriously, but he doesn’t care. This moment right here makes everything worth it and he can’t wait to call Jensen to tell him all about.

Jensen brings up the newest episode and leans back on his couch with a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other.

“Let’s go, Jared,” he murmurs as he starts the show. 

It’s a ridiculous team event, which Jensen has always sighed about. A show about home cooks, and they throw all these amateurs into a professional catering event and the judges are surprised when there are failures. Jensen knows it’s all for drama, being reality TV and all, but he still kind of hates it. He knows Jared always hated watching these episodes, too, so he can only imagine how stressful it is for Jared to live through it. 

Jared ends up on the red team as one of the last picks like kickball in third grade or some shit. Jensen shakes his head, grumbling about how no one knows what Jared’s got in him. They’re cooking for a firehouse and their families, and there are all sorts of puns about cooking under pressure, and if the heat is too much, get out of the kitchen.

Jensen rolls his eyes, but then spends most of the episode with his eyes trained right on Jared, or at least, whenever the kid is on screen. Even in the background, Jensen is watching and keeping track of every turn of those slim wrists, the quick and precise movements of slicing and dicing – Jensen can tell Jared’s knife work has improved in the last few weeks. Everything has improved, really, ever since the magical wings and fries dish. 

He heard all about it from Jared that night – NDA be damned – and he knows it’s helped Jared find that next stage of confidence to charge through the competition. 

Even when Jared’s only on screen every five minutes or so while the cameras focus on the plight of the captains – Katie on the red and Malik on blue – it’s mesmerizing to see Jared on the big screen. It’s a whole different feeling than Jensen’s time spent watching it up close, right in his kitchen. Pride rises quickly and Jensen is grinning as he watches Jared with this added layer of professionalism.

Jensen takes a long drink of his beer and murmurs, “I knew that kid before he was famous …”

And he is kind of famous, at least in the Masterchef circles. Jared is one of the most tweeted about contestants, thanks to his good looks and aw–shucks demeanor. Not to mention, hundreds and thousands of people all across America seemed to fall in love with his sad story. 

Jensen hates that part; Jared is more than a sad story, more than what his family and parents are. He’s his own person who stands tall, even if alone. 

There’s suddenly yelling in the red camp. First, it’s Roché, complaining that the root vegetable chips are soggy, then it’s the team captain – the tall blonde with impeccable makeup, Katie – harassing Jared for how thick he cut the vegetables. 

Jared first has a calm demeanor. “I showed them to you, and you said they were good.”

“You never showed them to me!” Katie shrieks. Jensen can’t believe her makeup and hair stay in place under the hot sun of a California summer. 

Jared, on the other hand, is drenched with sweat and has a bandana keeping his hair back off his face. Still, he wipes the back of his wrist over his forehead and rolls his eyes. “I totally showed them to you. The chips were fine until they went into cold oil. That’s on Stephen.”

Katie whips her head around to check their surroundings and the show goes to a dramatic zoom of the fryers then pulls back to show Stephen fussing around near the plates, instead of watching his station.

Jensen chuckles at the absurdity of flat oil, not a single bubble or rumble to the surface. “That’s my boy,” he murmurs, smiling broadly when the camera comes back to Jared. Katie is still complaining and firing off orders to everyone around her, but Jared is calm and focused on his own work at the meat station now, flipping burger after burger like he’s been doing this his whole life. 

There’s a moment of sadness when Jensen thinks that Jared’s ability to shift his attention without throwing a fit has been refined over the years in his home, with parents who complain and insist Jared is never doing enough, even when he’s trying to do more than his fair share with their support or not. 

There’s a sudden pang in Jensen’s chest and he sets his hand to it before he realizes it. Even more delayed of a realization is the feeling that he misses Jared and wishes the kid was back here in this apartment, in Jensen’s kitchen, cooking that burger for him. He wishes he could witness Jared’s skills up close again, and poke and prod at the kid to get a smile or a blush out of him. 

And his mind completes the whole circuit of _missing Jared_ by reminding Jensen of how fun it is to just be in Jared’s space, how warm and hopeful the kid is, even when he ducks his head and avoids so many of Jensen’s compliments. And Jensen will gladly feed Jared compliments all day long while Jared cooks and feeds him from every ingredient in his kitchen. 

He misses Jared. He already knew he did, but it never felt it this deep and dark, like missing a limb. There’s something else hitting him, something deep in his chest that’s hollow and cold. 

There’s a quick flash of warmth when the camera pans back to Jared and he’s smiling with a joke alongside his companion at the grills. That old fish guy seems to have taking a liking to Jared. Jensen can’t blame him. 

Jared’s laughing again when Jim swears, the show bleeping out a few words, and Jensen laughs along with the show.

God, he misses that smile.

After Sunday night service, the crew heads to the bar and it’s the first time in a long time they’ve convinced Jensen to join them. Jensen appreciates the night out, and he realizes it’s one of the few nights of socializing he’s had since Jared’s been gone. He supposes he’d relied heavily on their nights at his apartment to not be asked out with his coworkers all that often.

After he gets a beer, Danneel approaches him with a careful smile. “Hey, have you talked to Jared lately?”

Something tightens inside and he wonders what exactly she means there. Sure, he’s been close to Jared, and everyone at the restaurant knows that, but does she really know how often he talks to Jared? Or how often he thinks about the kid? How damn much he’s missed Jared in his life in these few short weeks.

She shrugs when Jensen doesn’t immediately answer. “I saw the last few episodes and he’s doing really pretty good.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he replies with a sigh of relief. 

“I think some of us were surprised.” She makes a face and motions with her beer. “I just mean, I didn’t know he was that into cooking. I figured he just needed an easy job.”

Jensen smiles, thinking of all the nights Jared’s cooked for him. He's proud others can now see what Jensen has all this time. “Yeah, he’s really good. He’s been waiting for a chance to cook for a long while.”

“But he’s just been working prep all this time?”

With a shrug, Jensen tries to explain without saying much. “Morgan, you know.”

She flits her eyebrows with a long sigh. “Yeah, I get that. Poor kid just always kept his head down. I wasn’t sure he’d last long in the kitchen.”

Jensen sees Chad is inching closer, eavesdropping on the conversation. He’s simultaneously amused and aggravated. Chad could’ve been a good ally for Jared in the kitchen, but he supposes everyone always looks out for themselves first. “He’s more determined than you’d think.”

“So, he’s still on the show?” Chad asks when he finally steps up to them. 

“He’s still in L.A. That’s about all I know.”

“You haven’t talked to him since he went?” Danneel asks.

“Yeah, we talk pretty regularly,” Jensen replies evenly. He sure as hell wished he could talk to Jared more. To see Jared would be even better, but he’s been able to weigh his wants against what Jared deserves in lasting as long on the show as possible. 

“He’s still on the show then,” Chad says with an impressed smile. “That’s pretty cool.”

“I guess. He can’t say much about what happens on the show. He had to sign an NDA while he’s there.”

Danneel nods. “Oh yeah, I guess he would. But that’s great he’s still there!”

Jensen nods with a genuine smile because he couldn’t be prouder of Jared right now. 

Chad leans in and lowers his voice. “I heard Morgan talking about the show.”

Danneel and Jensen both tense up. Jensen figures they’re both thinking about the few times they’ve heard the kitchen complain about what Jared’s served on the show. Jensen manages to wait for Chad to go on without insulting their boss first.

“If Jared sticks around a while, he wants to broadcast the show in the restaurant.”

“What?” Danneel shrieks as Jensen’s eyes widen. 

“He hates having the TVs on above the bar,” Jensen says, totally floored by the idea of having the show on during service.

“Yeah,” Danneel agrees, “he says his patrons don’t care about watching TV when they should be living with his food.”

Chad shrugs. “I guess if he can make some money off of one of his chefs on a major TV show?”

“He’s not a chef,” Jensen argues, even when he wants to stand up for all that Jared’s capable of. “For all those months, he berated Jared and now he wants to claim him as one of his own?”

“Whoa, chill out,” Chad insists with his hands out. “I’m just the messenger.”

Nodding, Jensen backs down and focuses on drinking his beer instead of starting shit when Chad and Danneel actually seem to be interested in Jared’s success. Finally.

“There’s a new episode tomorrow, right?” Danneel asks.

“Yeah, Mondays.”

“Are you gonna watch it?”

Jensen shrugs. “I work tomorrow. But I DVR it.”

Danneel makes a face, like she’s debating what she’s about to say. “I mean, maybe we could watch it together.”

His eyes widen and his heart races, suddenly worried over what her intentions really are. They’ve been buddies on the floor for a year or so now, but the only person on his mind has been Jared. He’s not sure exactly how to explain that without outing himself and now is not the time to do that.

“Maybe get a few others together?” she continues. “Kristen and I have been watching and we were saying it’d be cool to get a watch party. You know, all of Jared’s fans.”

“Right,” Jensen scoffs. When Danneel and Chad stare at him, he straightens himself out. Still, he feels like he should defend Jared. “It’s not like anyone else in the restaurant ever gave him a chance.”

Chad immediately looks offended. “Dude, I worked on the same station as him.”

“And you never stood up for him when he got in trouble,” Jensen points out. “No one ever did.”

“Dude, it’s the kitchen. No rules apply. I had to survive for myself, too.”

“Yeah,” Danneel agrees. “We aren’t always so helpful to new servers. Remember what you did to that David guy?”

Jensen wants to laugh, flashing back to some older guy who came in and tried to insist he had years of experience on all of them and could teach them a thing or two. When Jensen had enough of his overly helpful, yet smug nature, he not so accidentally bumped into the guy and a full tray of wine that ended up all over a table of eight that wound up leaving soon after, without tipping David. “That idiot deserved a hell of a lot more trouble for trying to steal my tables.”

Danneel grins, as she likely relives that moment, too. “So, is the watch party on? Kristen and I will bring some drinks.”

“I’ve got the party favors,” Chad offers.

“As long as it’s not the stanky shit you had last week,” Danneel huffs. “It tasted like rotten asparagus.”

“It wasn’t rotten asparagus,” Chad argues. “At least I don’t think it was.”

And just like that, Jensen is hosting tomorrow’s night episode.

*** 

Jensen’s living room feels packed for the episode, even when there are only half a dozen people here. He isn’t used to having more than Jared here.

Though he does recognize that Jared fills out a lot more space in Jensen’s life than one man should. 

It’s well past midnight, following the evening service, and they’ve already started in on shots. Jensen was rather delighted when Tahmoh insisted they toast to Jared and the group didn't blink. Everyone went right with it and joyfully called out his name before downing a round of whiskey.

“Here we go!” Chad yells when he sits on the couch. “Get your asses in seats.” He looks at Danneel and Kristen coming into the living room with fresh beers. “Or in my lap.”

Both women flip him off and he shrugs like he knew he had no chance anyway. 

Jensen chuckles and settles into a chair he drags in from the kitchen, fingers tapping at his beer can as the Masterchef logo comes to life on the TV. When the contestants march into the kitchen, everyone cheers at the sight of Jared and Jensen grins. It’s a bit ridiculous to feel this excited just from their excitement, but it’s contagious and Jensen finds he doesn’t mind so much that there’s a full group sharing the episode tonight. 

“Welcome to Week 10,” Roché calls out on screen. “Thousands of home cooks have vied for a spot in the kitchen and you fine people should be proud to be part of our top ten. 

“Now, don’t take it too lightly,” Sheppard says gravely. “Because at least one of you will be going home after tonight’s challenge.”

Sterling speaks up from beside Sheppard, smiling at everyone. “At this stage of the game, you really have to show us what you’ve got and wow us with your interpretations of some of the most classic dishes the Masterchef kitchen has produced.”

Then it’s Roché stepping up to the empty row stations at the front of the studio. “We’ve seen what you can do with savory dishes, but what about something sweeter, something more tempting and ooey, gooey delicious like this.” He dramatically pulls a box cover away from the station and Jensen jumps out of his seat yelling. 

“What the hell?” Kristen shouts, scared by Jensen’s outburst.

“You okay there, bud?” Tahmoh asks as Jensen goes quiet and sits in his seat again. 

Jensen downs the rest of his beer, trying to forget his ridiculous reaction, especially in front of his coworkers. 

Chad points at the screen. “Maybe he just really likes tarte ta–ta– … whatever it’s called.”

“Tarte Tatin,” Danneel corrects with a roll of her eyes. 

Jensen nods as he gets up for another beer, but then he rushes back to his seat when he hears Jared’s talking. 

Jared’s voice is narrating the scene of him running ahead of all the other contestants. “I raced right into the pantry. I didn’t even care who was in my way. I think I knocked Genevieve down.” Then Jared is in the one–on–one interview and he’s chuckling to the camera. “I swear, though, no one else was going to get my peaches.”

Chad snorts. “Boy really loves his peaches, huh?”

Jensen turns to find Chad staring at him. 

“Jared and his peaches got you all excited, man?”

A laugh bubbles out of Jensen before he can stop it. “Okay, but seriously? Jared makes a mean peach Tarte Tatin. He is going to _own_ this round.”

“Oh really?” Kristen asks, and now she and Danneel are watching him rather closely. 

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

When Danneel leans forward from the far end of the couch, putting her arm on her leg and her chin on her palm with interest, Jensen knows he’s said too much. 

“Oh, _really_ ,” she says, one eyebrow going up high. “Something going on with you and the young Masterchef?”

Jensen freezes immediately. For all that he’s made friends at the restaurant over the years and Danneel and Tahmoh probably know him better than anyone (well, not counting Jared), the restaurant can still be a toxic environment. The kitchen, especially. So, Jensen has resolved to stay in the closet to avoid any harassment for a damn long time … for as long as he works in this business. 

Now, the girls are eyeing him a bit too much for his comfort. Tahmoh, too, who’s got a clever grin. 

Thankfully, Chad has his eyes glued to the screen with Katie front and center, and breaks up the awkward silence when he murmurs, “I think I love her.”

Kristen swats the back of Chad’s head. “She’s got a boyfriend, you creepo.”

“A guy can dream!”

“We’re getting back to Jensen,” Danneel says.

Kristen sighs and points at the TV. “Can we wait until the commercial break?”

“Yeah, for real,” Jensen complains. “We’re here to watch Jared, not to talk about my love life.”

“There’s a love life?” Tahmoh asks with a smirk, and the girls are even more interested with a round of _ooooo_.

Danneel grins. “I think we’re here to watch Jared _and_ talk about your love life. Seems like they’re the same thing.”

Jensen sighs and goes to the kitchen for another shot.

The group settles down when Jared’s skills are on display as he flambés the peaches with the practiced ease he’s always shown in Jensen’s kitchen. 

From the doorway, Jensen grins at the sight of Jared on the big screen and wowing their coworkers, and he has the sudden impulse to capture the moment. He pulls his phone out and takes a picture of the group, sending it to Jared. _Your fan club_ he adds in the text. 

It takes about ten minutes for Jared to reply. When Jensen does the math, he figures Jared’s done filming for the day and now out to dinner with a few of the contestants he’s befriended or back at the hotel. 

_Are you serious_ Jared texts.

_Yes!_ Jensen fires back immediately. _Danneel and Kristen invited themselves. Then Chad and Tahmoh wanted in on the action._

_That’s a lot of people_. There’s a surprised, open–mouthed emoji to make the point.

Jensen looks back at the group, who’re now passing a bottle of Jim Beam to get the night really started. He fears how long they plan to stay because he’d rather call Jared and talk about tonight’s episode and see how he’s doing. 

He kind of regrets hosting this watch party, even if he's able to show Jared that people are rooting for him. 

_Next week might be bigger_ , Jensen replies. Then adds, _If you make it through again???_

_YOU KNOW I CAN’T TELL YOU_.

_You’re making peach Tarte Tatin on my screen. There’s no way you don’t win this round._

_Shut up._

Jensen smirks as he types out, _So that’s a yes?_

_I’ll call you later._

_I’ll be here_ , Jensen replies before adding a smiley emoji, because he wants Jared to know how much he means it.

*** 

“I tried calling home,” Jared admits quietly when they’re on the phone later that night.

Jensen holds his breath, unable to push or prod, even when he really wants to know. He wants to know if Jared’s parents are finally catching on and willing to show an ounce of support for a kid who did something only nine others have accomplished this year. 

That Tarte Tatin wowed the judges just like Jensen knew it would. He even beat out Genevieve’s textbook pear concoction. Roché said it was the closest call he’s had to make, but he was giving Jared the edge because of the cinnamon and the luscious peach, cooked to perfection.

Jared sighs. “I told them about next week.”

There’s another long pause and Jensen is afraid to ask, yet he wants Jared to know he’s here to deal with whatever is on his plate. “What’s next week?”

“Family week.” Jared clears his throat, and then lets out an odd laugh, like it’s cruel and ironic. “When everyone’s families come to watch them cook and _inspire_ them and all that …”

_All that bull shit_ Jensen thinks, it’s probably what Jared really wanted to say. For all that Jared’s family sucks at the support and honor and love of one another, Jared really does hold up his end of the deal and rarely says a bad word about them. 

Jensen wonders if it’s Jared’s way to keep his eyes on the prize … both the $250,000 check at the end of this journey and whatever lies beyond that when Jared can finally accept that he is one hell of a talented chef and has a real future ahead of him. 

“And what did they …” Jensen clears his throat and prepares himself for his own bout of feelings over Jared’s family and their complete disregard for their son. “What did they say?”

“ _Hmm_ ,” Jared sounds out, taut and angry. “That’s exactly what Dad said.”

There’s a tinge of bitterness there and Jensen takes it on. He is truly pissed off and angry at Jared’s dad for not even having the nerve to fake some kind of support. “You know what, Jared?” he fires off before he can stop. “Fuck them. Fuck it all. You’re doing amazing things out there and if they can’t see that, that’s fine.”

“That’s fine?” Jared laughs, high and awkward. “That’s fine that they won’t let me come back home? That I’m on my own with my meager low man on the totem pole paycheck from Morgan’s?”

“Then come here,” he insists. A second later, he finds that he means it. He really, really means it because Jared spends most of his free time in Jensen’s place anyway. Not to mention how badly Jensen has missed having the kid in his space. Having Jared as a roommate could make up for all these weeks apart. “I told you before you left that you could come stay with me when you come back. Hell, Jay, you’re going to win that competition and then what? Then you’ll have all that cash and buy your own place.” Jensen chuckles. “Then maybe you can let me stay with _you_.”

“Jensen, this isn’t funny.” Jared grows quiet, like he’s not even feeling the words. “This is my family. And if I don’t win and go home empty handed?”

“First of all, you won’t be empty handed. You’re getting paid for each episode, right?”

Jared makes a noise and Jensen smiles, knowing it’s true.

“Second,” Jensen goes on, “they are your family by blood, but there’s more to family than that. I can’t stand how they treat you. You deserve so much better.”

“It could be worse.”

“It shouldn’t be an ounce of worse.” Jensen takes in a deep breath, his chest too full for all the feelings he has for Jared, for how he wants to shake the kid out and make him lose all that baggage from his family and see what’s really ahead of him. “Jared, you are so much more than what they tell you.”

“Then why won’t they come, huh?” he challenges. “Like I’m not worth that, a chance to support someone they care about. Not even a free trip to California is worth it?”

“You _are_ worth it,” Jensen stresses. “If you –”

“If I was worth it, then they’d come out here, right?”

Jared sounds sad and resigned, like he already knows they’ll never show up for the taping. Jensen’s heart sinks to hear it in Jared’s voice, even when Jensen knows it’s true. Jared’s parents haven’t shown up for much of anything in Jared’s life once the twins came along. 

“But they won’t and I’m not.”

Jensen’s eyes are warm and wet, and he hates that this conversation is over a phone and not in person. He wants to pull Jared into his arms and whisper all the amazing things he feels for the kid, all those notions and wants he’s been keeping at bay for as long as he’s known Jared. He’s learned so much about Jared, in and out, and there’s no one he’d rather have taken over his kitchen, his apartment, and his heart. But there’s only so much he can do from thousands of miles away. 

Jared mumbles, “Just have to keep relying on myself. No one else ever shows up.”

“Jay, you know that’s not –”

“What I do know is that I gotta get up early.” He laughs, but it’s stilted and quiet. “Long day tomorrow with another team competition.”

Jensen accepts Jared’s change of subject, because there’s no way he wants to fight Jared over anything. The kid needs someone on his side and if this is how Jensen can accomplish that, then so be it. “Hey, make sure you pull that stick out of Katie’s ass.”

Jared laughs again, but it’s more authentically him. “She’s really not that bad. It’s just the editing.”

“She’s not bad,” Jensen teases, “She’s just drawn that way?”

“Yes! I swear, she and I are buds. She’s pretty nice and fun, even if the producers don’t want her to be.”

“I’m glad.” Jensen’s cheeks hurt from the sudden smile, holding wide and firm. Because he means it. “I’m _really_ glad.”

“Glad about what? That she’s not as awful as they edit?”

“That you’re making friends out there.”

“Yeah, it makes being here a little easier.” After a moment, Jared adds, “I mean, I still miss some things back home.”

Jensen’s smile softens and he drops his head, as if he has to hide the blush from Jared. Because Jared saying he misses some friends? Jensen knows it’s really just one friend. He knows because he feels the same way about Jared.

“Yeah, well, I think some of them miss you, too.”

Jared clears his throat and Jensen still wishes they were talking face to face so he could see exactly how the kid looks when taking that in.

“But they’re also incredibly proud of you and know you’re kicking ass because you are amazing.”

“Did Chad really say all that?”

They break out laughing. Chad said a lot of encouraging things tonight – in his own manner – but there’s no way in hell the guy would say anything remotely close to that. 

While Jensen appreciates their moment, he supposes it's good to stop here, before he says anything incredibly stupid and ruins the friendship with words like miss and love and whatever other bullshit continues to circle through his mind.

And he’s happy to follow Jared’s distraction to end the night on a more pleasant note than ruminating about Jared’s family … or lack thereof.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See the [Main Post for Notes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810424?view_full_work=true)

Jared has been dreading this episode for days. Maybe even weeks, as he knows they always go here. The show always plays up the pomp and circumstance of how long the contestants have all been here and how they have sacrificed so much to follow their dreams.

“Now it’s time for you to really cook from your heart,” Roché insists before looking to Sterling, who continues talking.

“And to do that, we’re bringing out a few guests to remind you of where your heart is and why you’re here.”

Jared holds his breath as everyone looks to the sliding door next to the front stage open up and a middle–aged woman and pre–teen girl come marking in. 

Sheppard announces, “Jim, your daughter, Grace, and granddaughter, Sydney are here.”

Jim runs forward to wrap his daughter up in a giant bear hug, one arm reaching down to hold onto the young girl. Tears are falling immediately from all three as they hug and kiss and share _I miss you_ and Jim’s aw–shucks _So damn glad to see my girls_ charms the group into soft laughter. 

Then it’s Katie’s boyfriend rushing into the studio to lift her up off the ground in a tight embrace, Genevieve's two young sons racing into their mom’s arms, and Malik’s wife and two twin girls follow the same path. 

One by one, each of the contestants are greeted by their loved ones and everyone on set is in tears for the emotional reunions. 

Jared is crying, too. But for a completely different reason. His name is called last and there’s a tight grip on his heart that he almost doesn’t want his parents to walk in. He doesn’t want the cameras or the judges, and especially not his competition, to see just how rough and cold his mom and dad can be. He thinks beyond the cameras and to the audience at home, many of who already cheer for him as the underdog, not because of his skills but because of his story. The sad young guy who is rough around the edges, lacks any formal training, but cooks his heart out by himself.

It’s true, mostly … he thinks about how he cooks for Jensen all the time. That Jensen gives him that relief, the support and praise, that no one else affords him. 

But his family, no, they’re not there for him. Not back home and not now, when Roché holds his hands in front of him and bows his head a little.

“I’m so sorry, Jared, but your parents weren’t able to make it.”

Jared steels himself, nods a little, and takes a step back, heading to his station. 

He’s not surprised and finds a bit of satisfaction that he’s ready to cook on his own. All his competitors have someone in their court, cheering him on from up on the balcony, but he has hung in here this long by himself, holding himself up.

Jared has a laser focus on the prize, and he laughs to himself that he has no real distractions making him want to leave. The other day, Malik mentioned his twin girls learning how to ride a bike with the help of his brother–in–law and wife, and Jim missed seeing his daughter finally graduate with her Master’s. 

The group had all lamented how much they’re missing right now and how much their lives and families are charging on without them. 

That’s not a problem for Jared. 

He doesn’t have many memories like Malik and his kids, or Katie and her boyfriend, or any other competitor here. He’s in the top eight and he’s going to hold tight to that and cook the hell out of this meal.

“Let’s see what you can do when you have your heart and your home right here, cheering you on,” Roché announces. 

The family members up on the balcony all cheer and call out names of their loved ones. Jared takes a moment to look at them all and he starts to think of who could be there, who he’d want to be shouting his name.

When he closes his eyes, green eyes and a wide smile comes into view and he gets a sad smile on his face. His head drops for a few moments as he thinks about the one person who’s always been his number one fan … at least for the last few years. 

Roché and Sheppard banter back and forth about their favorite home cooked memories from their childhood and Jared is thinking of filet mignon, garlic, and mushrooms. He can swear he hears Jensen’s voice in his head, the not so subtle moaning for good flavors that hit Jared right in his gut. From that birthday he’ll never forget, when Jensen got Jared time in the kitchen and Jensen said it was a knockout dish.

Once Sheppard calls for them to start, Jared races to the pantry and grabs up all his ingredients, adding in extra garlic cloves, Dijon mustard, chives … and then he thinks of the side dish and laughs as he remembers Jensen lamenting what starches will do to his figure, which Jared had always laughed off and Jensen never really argued beyond jokes. 

He knows the steaks and garlic mushroom sauce only need half of the hour he’s got, but it’s the potatoes that will test the limits, so those are addressed immediately. They’re washed and scrubbed before being set in the pressure cooker. His hands go on automatic to chop and prep all the other ingredients: shallots (finely chopped), large cloves of garlic (minced), and onto all the items he can measure out for the potatoes like minced onion, cream cheese, sour cream, shredded cheese, parmesan, and corn flakes.

That’s about when Sheppard appears at Jared’s workstation, one eyebrow impressively high and his voice low and cynical. “Jared, cereal and potatoes?”

Jared continues working, only flashing a quick glance up at the judge, but he’s nodding, too. “I know it sounds crazy but trust me.”

“Hmm,” Sheppard replies, yet he’s hovering to watch for a bit.

Every once in a while, Jared looks to him and his stomach begins spinning a mad circle at the way the guy keeps closely watching, arms crossed and chin lifting up in thought. 

There’s more on Jared’s plate – literally – and he checks the skillet heating up on the fire, logs the time left on the pressure cooker (just five minutes) and he gets to the mushroom sauce with the large skillet coming to temp. Butter melts and Jared swirls the pan to coat it, rubs Worcestershire sauce on the steaks, adds dashes of salt and pepper, then sets them in the skillet. The meat immediately sizzles and Jared grins at the sound, even looks to Sheppard with a bright smile, which the man returns with a quick nod before moving on to another station. 

The steaks brown for four minutes on each side, giving him some time to get back to the au gratin ingredients. He’s mixing up the cheeses and spices while the potatoes cool down so he can shred them and add to the bowl. 

When the final potato is shredded and mixed into the bowl, his timer goes off and he pulls the steaks from the skillet and covers with a tinfoil tent to keep them warm. 

There’s a bit of a ruckus going on around him, but he’s got too much to focus on at his own station with the wine he’s about to pour into the skillet. Roché and Sheppard are talking more, and he can see them from the corner of his eye standing off to the right of his station while cameras sweep in closer.

Finally, he looks up as he pours the wine and the pan sizzles. There’s the solid _glug glug glug_ of the wine before it splashes up the sides and he realizes he’s frozen in place, knows he’s over–pouring, and yet he can’t believe his eyes. 

“Jared,” Roché begins with a rather grand gesture. “I think maybe you do have a guest after all.”

“What the hell,” Jared mumbles, because coming down the side walkway and now standing right at Jared’s side is Jensen, those green eyes brighter than ever, mouth wide in a grin, and chest heaving with a quick deep breath. 

“Heya, kid,” he says, and Jared fumbles the wine bottle to the counter.

He is fully aware the wine is going to burn without attention and he surely spilled even more wine across the station, but his heart is beating wildly in his ears, lungs clenching to breathe, and he thinks his knees are about to give out on him.

Jensen’s smile fades and his eyes search the area, suddenly looking nervous and embarrassed, but Jared’s the one who’s ashamed for his reaction. 

“What’re you doing here?” Jared winces when he hears how manic his voice is. He checks out all the competitors watching him, even looks up to the balcony and some folks have their hands over their mouths or are leaning over the railing as if that will get them even closer to the action.

With a little shrug, Jensen smiles meekly. “It’s family day, right?”

Jared has nothing to say to that, rendered completely speechless for probably the first time when facing Jensen. There aren’t even any thoughts, his mind is completely blank, and his mouth is dry, but then he just launches himself forward to hug the hell out of Jensen.

Jensen’s arms immediately come around Jared and his hands clutch at Jared’s back. They rock a little in place, and Jared doesn’t want to move from this position. The warmth of Jensen’s embrace is unlike anything he’s felt before, the familiar scent of _Jensen_ and the soft rumble of him chuckling, vibrating from his chest through Jared’s.

The cameras are sweeping all around them and Jared has a bit of a twist in his gut that they’ve orchestrated this moment, all to milk the sad story of the kid who has no one supporting him. Maybe later he’ll be mad, but he can’t think of anything but Jensen right now. His hands twist in the back of Jensen’s shirt and his eyes are closed tight, but tears break free anyway, and Jared keeps his head tucked into Jensen’s neck, so no one sees this. He can’t show this kind of vulnerability, doesn’t want anyone looking at him sideways when this round is over, and everyone wonders just how bad Jared’s life is that this is how he reacts when a friend shows up …

The way Jensen’s hand comes up through Jared’s hair and pats his head tells Jared that there’s more to this moment than even he is feeling. Jared sniffs back more tears and emotion and only backs up when he smells the wine burning on the fire. 

“Oh, shit!” Jared flinches when he turns to a camera right behind him and covers his mouth. “Sorry!” he calls out waving at the lens, almost more embarrassed about his swearing than he is about what just happened with Jensen. 

“You need some help?” Jensen asks, and Jared turns back to him to see that the guy is actually very serious about his offer as he steps closer. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sheppard calls out. “Hands up!”

Jensen backs up with his arms in the air, palms out in surrender. “Sorry, it's a habit!” 

Jared laughs, his throat wet and eyes even wetter as more tears fall. The familiarity of Jensen with him while he’s cooking is something that hasn’t gone unnoticed while Jared’s been cooking on his own all these weeks. “You’re always in my way,” Jared teases.

Even when Jensen remains at his side, the cameras slip closer and no one makes him leave yet. Jared is a bit thankful for that and refocuses on his station. The skillet is pushed to a back burner and he has to grab a new one. He’ll be in trouble because he’s now lost the browned bits from the bottom of the skillet from when he seared the steaks, but he’ll figure something out. He has to.

“What’re you cooking?” Jensen asks, leaning in, while obviously keeping his hands behind his back. 

“Filet mignon.” Jared ducks his head, lets his hair get in his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Jensen’s reaction, or maybe to hide his own blush.

“With _that_ sauce?”

He can hear the way Jensen’s voice rises, hopeful and excited. Probably jealous, too, because of how much he loved that dish. “And the au gratin balls.”

“Oh, my God, the balls,” Jensen whines. Jared looks up with wide eyes, then they’re both laughing while Jensen keeps laughing and covering his mouth as he stares at the camera right over Jared’s shoulder. Jensen leans in to whisper, “They'll edit that out, right?”

Jared shrugs with a crooked smile. 

“Okay, you have to cook, kid,” Jensen says warmly. He pats Jared’s back just before moving away. 

Sure, Jensen needs to go join the families on the balcony, but Jared doesn’t want him to leave, not just yet. So, he grabs hold of Jensen’s wrist and tugs him back in for a quick hug, kisses his cheek before he thinks not to, and whispers at his ear. “Please don’t leave.”

Jensen hugs him back, squeezing hard before letting go with a frown. “I can’t stand by you the whole episode.” He nods behind Jared, where Sheppard is probably still watching them, closely eying if Jensen touches anything on the workspace. 

Jared holds onto Jensen’s wrists and the words quickly tumble out, “No, I mean after this. After we’re done taping. Please stay. I want to see you.”

Turning his palm over, Jensen squeezes Jared’s hand and gives him a soft smile. “Of course, Jay.”

“How long are you here for?”

Jensen’s face falls a little, then he gets a warm look in his eyes. “Just cook, kid. We’ve got time tonight to hang out.”

Jared takes a shaky breath, fighting off another round of tears, and nods. There’s a quick whispered, “okay,” then he lets Jensen go, but he also watches Jensen’s back as he heads to the stairs. Jared keeps on watching until Jensen finds a spot on the balcony where he can get a great view of Jared’s station. 

There’s about thirty–five minutes left on the clock and he thinks he has time to start the steaks over, so a new skillet gets set on the fire and he wills it to heat up as fast as possible. He thinks it’s the best chance he has with the sauce to ensure he gets all the drippings and remnants of the seared meat. 

He checks the clock again and considers if he should get the au gratin potatoes going first. The recipe calls for baking in the oven for at least half an hour, but he doesn’t have that kind of time, so he fires up the deep fryer at his station and keeps an ear out for the sound of popping grease when it’s at the right temp. 

While the new set of steaks sear, he shapes the potato balls then rolls them in the parmesan cheese and corn flakes. That’s when Roché shows up with his arms crossed, one hand coming up to stroke an absent beard. 

“So that’s the cereal, huh?” the man asks. “Quite creative. Then you’re going to fry them I see?”

Jared nods and goes to the skillet to drop a little water and watch the soil sizzle. The steaks are rubbed in Worcestershire, salt, and pepper again then he smirks once more for the searing noise of meat hitting high heat. 

“And how about your friend?” Roché asks. When Jared looks to him, the judge is twisting to look up at the balcony. Jared sees Jensen with his arms on the railing, chin on his hands, and eyes so intent on watching Jared cook on this kind of stage. 

A warm thrill runs through Jared’s body and he can feel his cheeks burning from the suddenly wide smile on his face. “That’s my buddy, Jensen. He’s about the only one who lets me cook.”

There is a barrage of questions about that … how long they've known each other, how they met, what kinds of things Jared cooks for him. Jared knows they’re just trying to get one good sound bite and yet he’s pretty quiet because Jensen is _right there_ and can hear everything. 

“So, you work together at the restaurant?” Roché asks.

“Yeah, he’s a server and I’m in the kitchen,” Jared replies with a nod.

“You can eat at a four–star restaurant and you let him cook at your place instead?” Sheppard calls up to Jensen. 

“Damn right,” Jensen shoots back with a smirk. “I haven’t eaten this well in years.”

The families around Jensen laugh, Roché and Sheppard, too. 

Sterling joins them and asks Jensen, “What’s your favorite?”

“It’s all amazing,” he replies. “I couldn’t pick just one.”

“What about you?” Sterling asks Jared. “What’s your favorite thing to make him?”

Jared blushes, keeping his head down at his station. He doesn’t want to answer this question, or any of them, but he can feel Sterling shifting in closer to egg him on. He finally looks at the judge and says, “This dish was a pretty big hit on my birthday.” 

Sterling tsks and looks up to the balcony again. “You made him cook for his own birthday?”

He glances up to Jensen, too, and they share a soft look before Jared turns back to Sterling. “He got me a full afternoon in the kitchen to make whatever I wanted. It’s the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

With a grin, Sterling pats Jared on the back. “Then get to it, Jared. You’ve got twenty–five minutes left.”

Jared gets right back to work, adding the shallots and garlic to the same skillet he used to cook the meat stirring for 30 seconds. Carefully pouring in the wine and stirring, he scrapes up the browned bits from the bottom for another few minutes.

Roché hasn’t left, though, and the cameras are getting even closer to his work. “What kind of sauce are you making?”

“Garlic mushroom.” Jared chances a look to Jensen and they share a quick smile before Jared goes back to scraping at the pan to lift up all the drippings with the wine. “I’m told it’s a good knockout to the taste buds.”

“Hell yeah, it is!” Jensen calls out, and the studio chuckles with him. 

“So, it was a big surprise, huh?” Roché asks. “Getting Jensen out here?”

Jared laughs, high and loud, and he can see that his nearby competitors are paying him attention, even as they keep cooking their own meals. “Yeah, a real surprise.” After a beat, he picks his head up to glance at Jensen then Roché. His chest feels tight again, like he’s seeing Jensen for the first time, like this is a surprise every time he spots Jensen on the balcony. His voice goes low and his eyes are right with Roché’s when he murmurs, “Thank you so much.”

Roché taps the counter and winks before moving on to the next station for another round of probing questions about family and fond memories with food with Jim. 

Once the meal is done, Jared stands proudly in front of the judges, sneaking a look back to Jensen on the balcony every now and then. He still can’t believe Jensen’s here, watching him on this show, on this platform that Jensen helped him get to. 

Roché is first, humming as he chews the potatoes. “These are outstanding. The crispness of the cereal, which I’ll admit, I really thought was questionable, works here. And the softness of the au gratin with the cheese is a nice balance.”

Sterling favors the steaks and gives him kudos for the temperature. Even tips the cut of steak for Jared to see. “That right there? That’s a perfect medium rare. Kudos to you, Jared.”

It’s Sheppard that knocks him down a peg. “The garlic is so strong, I’m about to fend off a pack of vampires. And the color of the sauce? It looks like my kid spit up on your steak.”

Roché speaks up with a crooked smile. “But I’m sure you were working with a bit of a curveball tonight, bringing your friend in while you were cooking. You did a pretty grand job here. Congratulations, Jared.”

Jared gets in the top three for the first time in four weeks and Jensen is beaming down at him from the balcony so that’s enough of a win for Jared.

A greater win is being able to ride with Jensen to the hotel and spend time with him. 

“You want to go out?” Jensen asks when they’re in Jared’s room, the door slamming shut behind them. “Hit the town?” 

Jared watches Jensen dump his duffel bag on the ground next to the TV cabinet and there’s still that thrill of _holy shit he’s here, he came for me, he’s in my corner, I need no one else but him_. 

Also, there’s a familiar tug of strain and tiredness in his bones from being on his feet for so many hours, the stress of the cooking and long waits between filming the tasting and judging. Not to mention having to sit through the elimination challenge.

Poor Jim was distracted through the whole episode, and he’d let on that while seeing his daughter and grandson was such a delight, it only made him miss home all the more. He seemed rather happy to get the axe and Jared gets it … now that Jensen is in front of him, he wants to be back in Jensen’s tiny apartment and making a mess of the kitchen while stealing another one of Jensen’s shirts and getting light–hearted ribbing for it all. 

But there’s a new fire burning in his gut. Jensen flew all the way to California for him. He took time off from Morgan’s, sacrificing a few nights of work and his income. And now Jared solidifies exactly why he’s in this competition and has to do his best to reach the end. He has to come home to Jensen with that trophy and check to be sure Jensen knows this visit was the most monumental thing anyone has ever done for Jared, and that Jared would make good on the promise to kick each and every ass he encountered.

“Jared?” Jensen asks and now he’s rocking a little from one foot to the other. “I can go back to my room. It’s not a big deal.”

It is a very big deal. The show had given Jensen a voucher for his own room for the night, but Jared wants to extend their time together as long as he can. Make up for all the time lost, the moments Jared has been alone here. Even if being in a quiet room at night was far better than the bustle of the restaurant or his own home … he sure as hell missed seeing Jensen, picking up on the facial expressions when they talk – absent from all those phone calls – and getting to just feel the calm he gets when standing near him. 

“I’m just really tired,” Jared admits. “But I want you to stay.” Then he nervously tacks on, “If you want to stay.”

“Of course, I’ll stay.” Jensen laughs a little, like Jared is ridiculous to think otherwise. “We can order in room service and just chill here.”

“Room service gets expensive,” he argues. “And you’re missing out on tips.”

Jensen rolls his eyes. “I’ll use a credit card.”

“That you still have to pay.”

“You can pay me when you get that big check, alright?” Jensen pats Jared’s head then nearly jumps onto the big king bed, reaching for the room service menu on the far nightstand. 

Jared joins him and they stretch out as they talk over the menu. Jared’s been starving since he started cooking and while he got a few tastes here and there to ensure the au gratin balls were cooked through and the steak was tender with the right flavors, it’s been hours since they had a break during filming. 

Jensen was released from the show before the judging happened and he said he’d roamed a bit on Hollywood Boulevard, took pics of the Kodak Theater, even the magic museum, then hoofed it back in time to meet Jared in the hotel lobby. Jensen pulls a pillow under his head and yawns, as his own day of excitement must be catching up to him. 

Once Jared has placed the order, Jensen huffs at him. “You can have anything on this menu, and you got a cheeseburger?”

“I just want something quick and easy. Something I didn’t have to cook myself.”

“I don’t know, Jay,” Jensen says loftily. “That steak looked pretty tasty.”

“It’s not like I get to eat it myself.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

Jared sighs as he relives the judging round. “Besides, Sheppard said it looked like vomit.”

“It looked fine to me,” Jensen offers. 

“Not in a show like this. You have to eat with your eyes, not your stomach.”

Jensen makes a funny face. “I eat with my mouth.”

Jared rolls his eyes and falls back against the pillows with a dramatic sigh. “You’re so dumb.”

“I eat with these things people call teeth.” Now Jensen leans over him and chomps his jaws, clacking overly loud before laughing and pushing at Jared, who tugs at Jensen’s arms to keep him from doing too much to disrupt him when he’s nice and comfy now. Then Jensen settles in next to him, one arm up around Jared’s head and the other resting over Jared’s waist, Jared’s hands wound around his forearm. His voice gets soft as his eyes roam Jared’s face and Jared’s stomach twists with the warmth in that look. “I really wish I could’ve tasted it. It looked amazing.”

“You’ve had it before,” Jared replies quietly. There’s something strung between them that he’s unsure of, but he knows he doesn’t want to disrupt the softness surrounding them. 

“And it was the best thing I put in my mouth.”

Jared lifts his eyebrows and Jensen laughs, bending close to hide his face at Jared’s shoulder.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it. You really like having my meat and balls in your mouth.”

Jensen shakes Jared and sits up a little to glare at him, but there’s a twist to his mouth that says he’s anything but mad. Still, his voice is petulant when he complains, “I’m just really proud of what you cooked today, okay?”

Jared smiles at the compliment, but he can’t stop joking, “You’re really proud of my balls?”

Rolling his eyes, Jensen flops down next to Jared and brings his arms back to himself. “I was trying to be serious, Jared.”

Guilt twists him up and Jared immediately turns to face Jensen, so they’re lined up together, but Jensen won’t look at him, he’s just picking at the blanket and keeping his eyes down. “Okay, I’m sorry. You can be serious.”

Jensen glances up for a second then looks back at his fingers tugging at a stray thread. “I’m just really glad I could come watch you cook,” he finally says.

“Me, too.” Jared smiles as he shifts closer. “I can’t believe they flew you out here. I can’t believe you _wanted_ to come.”

“Of course, I would.” Jensen’s voice is tight, and his eyes are fixed right on Jared. “I’d be here every day if I could.”

“If not for Morgan’s,” Jared snorts.

“And my rent. Car payment. Food … although my food situation is really sad without you.”

Soon enough, the food shows up and they turn the TV on to keep them company, some random sitcom rerun. They share their plates, fries, and onion rings, and Jared’s licking his fingers of every bit of sauce from the burger. He tries to change the channel, but Jensen groans and says he’s so full and tired he can’t pay attention to anything, so they turn the TV off.

“What do you think you’ll do if you win?”

There seems to be something extra to Jensen’s voice that Jared can’t quite place, but it’s nice to hear him right here, not over a phone line. And it’s even better to see his face, his eyes, log every way his smile changes as they talk. 

“When you win,” Jensen corrects with a wink.

Jared shrugs and plays with the seam of the comforter. “I try not to think about that.”

Jensen’s face and voice are flat when he asks, “You try not to think about winning?”

“Of course, I think about that,” Jared says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s just that I’m keeping my eyes on the prize right in front of me. To get through each challenge right now.”

“When you win you can move out of your parents’ house.”

Another roll of his eyes and Jared tries to turn away, yet Jensen keeps him in place. “I don’t want to think about my parents right now. Especially with this family day bullshit they ditched me on.”

Jensen’s arm settles over Jared’s waist and his fingers now pick at the back of Jared’s shirt. He’s got a sad smile and Jared tries not to look at him; it only makes him sadder about the situation and that Jensen feels sorry for him. “You know, if your parents had come, you wouldn’t have cooked what you did, right?”

“I guess.”

“And I wouldn’t be here right now, celebrating my amazing talented, famous, awesome chef friend.”

Jared looks up at him and Jensen’s face is impossibly close. He’s thought about this moment a hundred times … maybe a thousand. Hell, probably more. Ever since he met Jensen, he’d been drawn to the handsome face and then how Jensen befriended him in the restaurant, when no one else would.

Well hell, that simple little crush became something more, which grew into a whole _thing_ when Jensen opened up his home and kitchen to give Jared a place to escape to. 

He’s spent the last two years thinking Jensen was his best friend, even if he wasn’t Jensen’s. And he’s known for almost as long that he’s in love with him. 

There have been so many times they’ve shared casual touches and glances, and Jared has wondered when they’d have that feeling, that _this is it, this is the moment_ notion to what was happening between them. Nothing has felt as charged as this now, when Jensen’s still looking him right in the eye, staying in place, and not so subtly licking his lips. 

Jared dares to close the distance with the barest of touches to Jensen’s mouth. He immediately pulls back and turns his face away and before he knows it, Jensen is pressing right into his space again and goes for Jared’s mouth. It’s a miss because of the angle, but Jensen kisses him again and when Jared’s mouth opens on a breathy moan of surprise, Jensen’s tongue slips right in. 

Their legs slip together, too, as their bodies tuck in together like puzzle pieces finding the right groove. Jared fumbles to get his arms around Jensen while Jensen brings his hand up to Jared’s face, fingers threading through hair and pushing it off his face and neck. His palm covers the back of Jared’s head as he keeps him in place and their kiss gets deeper and messier as they struggle to breathe in between diving right back into the kiss. 

Jared’s heart races as Jensen nudges him to his back and hovers over him to kiss some more, now with his hips pressing into Jared’s in a slow rock. He whimpers with the rhythm, then whines when Jensen pulls back and stops moving against him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Now Jared’s heart pumps for a completely different reason and his mind freezes, terrified that he finally got this and it’s all he’ll ever have from Jensen.

Jensen’s eyes are blown wide, dark pupils taking up so much in those big eyes. His chest heaves with each heavy breath, but he’s also frowning, worried. “Are you okay? Is this okay?”

Jared panics even more and he spits out, “Do you not want to do this?”

“I just …” Jensen laughs a little. 

He thinks about pushing Jensen off of him because he’s too confused to really consider what’s happening, and worse yet is Jensen laughing at him. “You just what?”

“I’ve thought about this before,” Jensen admits quietly. 

Jared closes his eyes, heat flooding him at the fact that all that Jared has wanted, Jensen has, too. Just as softly, he says, “Me, too.”

“Really?”

Floored by the openness of Jensen’s eyes, how wide and intense they are on him, Jared touches Jensen’s jaw, running his fingers over the curve, and nods. 

“I think that means we both want to?” He ducks his head down to Jared, a scant inch from Jared’s mouth. “Unless you just wanna nap?”

Jared licks his lips and whispers, “A nap would be okay.”

“Just okay?” Jensen murmurs before dropping a soft kiss on his lips. 

He finally grabs onto Jensen’s lower back and yanks him into his body, and they both groan at the press of their groins together. They rock together for a while, the kisses getting deeper. They're moaning louder together as their hips quicken, and while Jared really wishes he had Jensen touching him more, maybe his mouth or at the very least a hand, he thinks there’s something kind of sweet and innocent about this here. Jared’s a virgin anyway … he’s gotten a hand job here and there. A blow job from an eager cheerleader after Senior Prom, when he was still in denial and firmly in the closet. But Jensen has brought so much more out of him since they met, and Jared thinks it’s utterly perfect that the first man he’s had these kinds of feelings for is the one being so careful and patient with him.

Jensen goes slow as he runs his hand down Jared’s chest and pulls Jared’s shirt up to touch his belly. Jared sucks in a deep breath and wills Jensen’s hand to go lower. 

It doesn’t, not right away. There’s a lot of kissing and Jared gets lost in the feel of Jensen’s mouth, the twist of his tongue, and he thinks he could do this all night and be happy for the rest of his life. 

Then Jensen sits up a bit and yanks on Jared’s shirt, mumbling, “Take this off?”

“Of course,” Jared says eagerly, then laughs to himself for how quickly he moves to get out the t–shirt. Jensen chuckles, too, and his eyes are bright when he comes in close again to kiss. 

Fingers trail all over Jared’s chest, and he squirms with every nerve firing off at the touch. Jensen must sense it because he pulls back before Jared drags him right back in with a firm hand around his neck. 

Another little chuckle and Jensen kisses down Jared’s jaw and throat, taking time to leave wet kisses across Jared’s chest before trailing lower. 

_Finally_ , Jared thinks when Jensen gets to his fly. He even lifts his hips to help Jensen get his jeans out of the way, then sucks in a breath when Jensen’s fingers tug at the waistband of his boxers. 

Jared presses his head back into the pillows as Jensen tugs the underwear down and palms his dick. He tries to keep himself as still as possible, or else he thinks he’ll break out of his skin with every soft touch of Jensen’s fingers dragging up and down the length of him. 

Then there’s Jensen’s wet kisses to the head of Jared’s cock, and Jared clenches his fists in the comforter. 

“Please,” Jared whimpers before he can stop himself. 

“Whatever you want,” Jensen says, voice heavy and thick. 

Jared picks up his head to look at Jensen and is awestruck by the depth of Jensen’s gaze and the sight and touch of his mouth rubbing along the top of Jared’s dick. His body jerks and he thinks he’s going to come from that image alone. 

Jensen chuckles all dark and sexy and Jared knows he’ll be hearing that sound in his mind on repeat for a long damn time. “I got you,” Jensen mumbles. A second later, he goes down on Jared’s dick as far as he can.

It doesn’t take long. All these long–running emotions swirling all around them and Jared’s young libido do him in rather quickly. When Jared shouts with his orgasm, he puts his fist to his mouth to keep any other noises in, especially when Jensen eases up on the pressure of his mouth and licks up everything Jared’s got to give.

“Holy fuck,” Jared breathes out as Jensen slides back into place beside him. He runs his hands over his face before realizing he’s completely naked and Jensen is still fully clothed. Pulling his knees up, Jared tries to cover himself until Jensen chuckles with a soft hand on his chin and brings Jared closer for a gentle kiss.

Jensen drags Jared with him to their sides, so they’re lined up together, still kissing all languid and taking their time as Jared comes down from this foggy high. 

Carefully, Jared reaches for Jensen’s shirt and tugs at the hem, testing the waters to touch Jensen beneath all these clothes. Jensen gets the point and immediately shifts back to remove his shirt and immediately moves back in so they’re touching chest to chest, warm skin all over. It takes a little bit more nerve to bring his hand down Jensen’s chest and finally to his belt to wrap his fingers around the buckle.

There’s a quick hitch in Jensen’s breathing, and his mouth stalls for a moment before Jensen pushes back in for a deep press of his tongue. Jared figures that’s enough of a sign to proceed, so he gets Jensen’s buckle undone and then fumbles his way through the button fly until he can finally get his hand around the shape of Jensen’s hard dick behind the dark blue cotton of his underwear.

“Shit, Jared,” Jensen mumbles against his mouth. 

Jared pauses, holding completely still. Fear ripples through him that this is too much, that Jensen doesn’t really want any of this and Jared has already overstepped every boundary. Maybe Jensen is disappointed in what’s already happened, or he’s pissed off that Jared came too fast. 

Jensen rocks his hips into Jared’s hand, murmuring Jared’s name again, so Jared takes that as the sign to keep going. 

He slides his hand inside Jensen’s boxer briefs and wraps his hand around Jensen’s dick, pulling quick and fast. There’s no patience left anymore, and Jared wants to hear all the noises Jensen makes. All those breathy moans and whimpers falling from Jensen’s lips are the best noises Jared’s ever heard, and he keeps jerking Jensen off until Jensen’s hips stutter out of rhythm. 

There’s a loud moan rumbling through Jensen’s mouth to Jared’s, and Jared smiles against Jensen’s lips. Jared pulls his hand out of Jensen’s jeans and drags it up Jensen’s stomach, around his hips, and holds tight to his back. 

Jensen runs his hand through Jared’s hair as he hugs and kisses Jared’s cheek. With a satisfied sigh, he closes his eyes and tugs Jared even closer. 

Jared’s more than satisfied, too. Especially when they’re tucked in tight together, hands roaming with soft touches, and quiet murmurs keeping them company. It doesn’t take much longer for them to fall asleep and Jared is happy to be in Jensen’s arms when he fades away.

Jared wakes to Jensen cursing. The bed shakes and Jensen is jumping out of bed with a string of _fuck, fuck, fuck._

“What? What’s wrong?” Jared asks, rolling to his back and dragging a hand through his hair. He looks down and sees he’s still naked. Recalling the night before makes him smile before he sees Jensen rushing to the bathroom.

“I forgot to set my alarm,” Jensen shouts before closing the bathroom door. Seconds later, the shower turns on.

Sun streaks in through the thin drapes and he looks at the clock. It’s after seven and Jensen’s flight is at nine. Jared leaps out of bed with his own cursing, because he has to be at the studio at eight for another day of filming and he’d apparently forgotten to set an alarm, too. 

There’s no time to talk about anything outside of hurrying around one another to get ready for the day, least of all to talk about what happened before they fell asleep. Jensen packs as Jared showers, a heavy pit in his stomach as he worries over what everything means … he and Jensen, what they finally shared … he has no clue what happens next. 

They rush into the elevator and out into the lobby, both a bundle of nerves for running late for where each has to be. Out in the big drive in front of the hotel, Jensen asks the doorman to get them both cabs – one to the airport and another to the studio – as Jared stands just a few feet away. But it feels like they're miles apart, again. 

Jensen turns to Jared with a sad smile. “What a shitty goodbye, huh?” 

Jared nods, unable to put words to his thoughts. At least not here, out in the sun, with guests coming and going from the hotel. 

A cab pulls up for Jensen and before he can get to the door, Jared tugs him back into a hug. They cling to one another and Jared wants to beg him to stay, make sure this isn’t a real goodbye, because he has no clue what comes next for them. 

Jensen pats Jared on the back of his head and whispers in his ear, “You go on and keep kicking every ass left in that competition.”

“I’ll do my best,” Jared says, just as softly.

“You always do.” Jensen pulls back, pats Jared’s cheek, and smiles. It’s a little cautious and fractured.

Jared feels the same way. And he can’t say anything else when his own cab pulls up and he has to head to the studio.

*** 

There’s before Jensen and after Jensen.

Jared has always recognized how his life became something more once they were friends. Especially when Jensen opened up his home and his kitchen to let Jared really stretch his wings. 

Now there’s another version of that … the after now that they’ve had sex.

He’s not sure what’s supposed to come next. He doesn't want to call Jensen too soon, but he feels like he can’t wait. Jared’s dying to hear Jensen’s voice again, yet he fears that all that happened was just some fluke. Maybe they were all wrapped up in the emotions of the reunion episode with Jared so far across the country and away from everything back home. Here in L.A., maybe they could take the moment to pretend they’re something Jared never expected them to be. Sure, he’d hoped and looked for it every time he was in Jensen’s presence. But what now?

Now he knows how Jensen kisses, how his hands feel on Jared’s body, and how he sounds when he comes. Jared knows there is no going back. 

If Jensen doesn’t want anything more from Jared and wants things to go back to how they were before this competition … well, hell, Jared will suffer a broken heart for years before he can get over it. But he’d rather have a sliver of their friendship than none at all. 

So, he waits a few days to call Jensen. It’s torturous to sit in the hotel room at night with just a TV and the nightly news to keep him company after long days filming. He wants to be on the phone with Jensen every free minute he has and hear Jensen’s voice, wants to laugh and talk and share all of his experiences from filming. 

Jared’s nerves are far too strong, and he holds off.

He does check Jensen’s Facebook for any kind of updates, yet there’s scant information there. Jensen was never much for social media anyway and only posted a random picture on occasion. He’s not tagged on Danneel or Tahmoh’s pages either, and Jared kind of hates himself for looking. 

He’s not sure if he feels better knowing there’s no news or if he’d rather see that Jensen was going on with his life rather than lamenting all that happened between them like Jared has done for all of his waking hours. 

All these thoughts run through his head at any random time of day. But when he’s back in the studio and facing the three judges at the front of the room, Jared tries to screw his head back on straight and focus on the grand prize. 

Maybe if he wins this damn thing, then Jensen will welcome him home with open arms and they can continue what they started in Jared’s hotel room.

*** 

Another episode and Jared is one of six contestants left. Each week has brought its own set of challenges, a new round of anxiety as Jared has worried that this could be the week he’s cut.

When he’s facing Genevieve and Malik in an elimination challenge, with the top three from their Mystery Box challenge up on the balcony, he thinks this could be it. Especially when Roché announces this elimination is centered on cupcakes. 

“A perfect dozen, set in the Masterchef box, must be set at the front table at the end of the hour.”

Jared kind of laughs, because this is so ridiculous. They’re not professional bakers – well, he and Malik aren’t – and it’s foolish to treat the contestants like they’re about to serve a customer and have to bake a whole set of desserts packaged for a non–existent customer. 

Sterling counts them down to start the clock and then the three of them race for the pantry. Jared sees Genevieve going for lavender, lemons, and champagne, and Malik is mumbling to himself about cherry cheesecake. Like any of that even makes sense in a cupcake challenge.

Jared makes a face before thinking about a Boston cream pie cupcake with gooey fudge topping. Or maybe banana cream with a pudding filling ... that’s when he decides to turn it all on its head and go with a chocolate cake and a banana frosting. 

At his station, Jared peels the bananas and breaks them into pieces for the food processor. 

That’s when Roché appears at his side. “Banana? Isn’t that the new trend these days? You think maybe it’s _too_ trendy?”

Jared looks up with a shrug. “If it’s made well, it doesn’t matter if it’s brand new or a hundred years old. Right?”

Roché quirks the side of his mouth. “Is that so?”

“At least it’s not a champagne cake.”

“I heard that!” Genevieve shouts from beside him. 

“You were supposed to!” he fires back, but he’s smiling. 

They’re not fighting, even when he knows the show is framing as much tension as it can between all the contestants. It’s more like sibling rivalry and he welcomes it all the time. He never had that himself, especially without much of a connection with his young brother and sister.

The hour whips by, but at the end, he has the Masterchef logo–ed box packed full of a dozen cupcakes. 

Baking has never been his thing and the only real pizzazz he added was gained from watching some cake decorating hacks videos on Facebook. Jared hopes it’s enough for today.

Roché opens Genevieve’s box to a dozen pristine cupcakes. The lavender–tinted frosting is perfectly curled atop the cake, adorned with a few pieces of lemon zest to perfect the decoration. Roché and Sheppard both grant her all the accolades a competitor would dream of on a show like this. Sterling doesn’t have anything to add as he seconds everything that’s been said before him. 

As soon as Roché bites into Jared’s cake, the judge makes an odd face and chews like he’s being forced to swallow. “Oh, Jared,” the man says softly.

It’s not in reverence. Jared can hear the disappointment and he hangs his head for a second before standing tall to take the hits as they come. 

“The banana is just so cloying.” Roché reaches for a glass of water and drinks for quite a long time to wash the frosting out of his mouth. 

Sheppard steps in for his own taste, which is pure torture when Jared already knows he missed this challenge by a mile. “I just don’t have anything good to say here.”

Sterling goes next and has a little more pity on Jared. Not much, though. “The cake is cooked through, though there isn’t enough chocolate here to really make a point. But yeah, that banana is far too harsh. The frosting sticks right to my teeth.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin and frowns. “I’m really sorry, Jared. But this is a miss for me.”

Jared nods in agreement, even when he thought it could have been an impressive combination. 

As they all expected, Genevieve takes the cake, literally, with the lemon and champagne cake. Each of the judges are impressed with the pastel color of her frosting and the hint of lavender in the buttercream. 

“There’s something light and fresh about this,” Roché raves. 

“This really could be the new thing,” Sheppard agrees. “I would serve this in my restaurants.”

Genevieve beams through judging and Jared offers her a supportive smile, which she returns before grabbing his hand and squeezing. “You got this,” she whispers.

Jared laughs at himself and hates himself for hoping Malik botched this challenge more than he did.

Jensen is surprised by the late–night knock at his door and even more shocked when Jared stands in the hallway with bags over his shoulders and his hair a mess, pulled behind his ears.

“Hey,” Jared says with a meager wave, even as he fumbles with the straps of one of his bags.

“Hey, kid,” Jensen replies, voice airy and confused. 

“I, um –”

“What're you –”

They both stop and stare at one another, willing the other to speak. Finally, Jared tugs at the straps of his bags and gives Jensen some stellar puppy dog eyes. “Can I come in? At least get rid of this load on my back?”

“Of course!” Jensen nearly shouts as he backs up and holds the door open for Jared to come in. “I’m sorry. I just … I can’t believe …”

“That I’m here?” he asks, almost like a complaint. Along with a grunt as he finally releases his luggage to the floor.

“Yeah, are you done filming?”

“Well, I can’t really say.”

Jensen finds it hard to breathe with Jared in his space. It’s been a long week and a half since he was in L.A., since he spent the night at Jared’s hotel. Spent the night _with_ Jared, and they’ve exchanged some messages but not much more. Jared’s smile is subdued, and Jensen immediately tenses up. He doesn’t really know what to say, so he just follows up Jared’s statement. “Can’t say what?”

“That I’m done filming.”

“Oh, so the show’s done!” Jensen immediately smiles with his stomach spinning in excitement. This must mean that Jared is finally back. He didn’t think it would be done this soon, but Jensen is ready to host a watch party for each of the remaining episodes to celebrate Jared’s success. “That’s incredible Jared. _You_ are.”

Jared makes a face and shrugs, all while failing to meet Jensen’s eyes. “ _I’m_ done.”

“Oh.” Jensen feels his face drop instantly, understanding that the show goes on without Jared now. Jared must’ve survived a few more episodes after Jensen visited, before being cut from the finale. “You should’ve called,” he insists.

Jared looks further into the apartment as his face drops. “Oh, do you have company or …”

“No, not that.” Jensen huffs at himself for being so impossible to understand. Especially when it’s putting Jared on edge. “I mean, I would’ve picked you up from the airport or something.”

“The show gave me some money for a ride.”

“Still,” he shrugs. “I would’ve been there at baggage with signs and balloons. Maybe a bullhorn.” Jensen cups his hands at his mouth and announces, “This is my amazing friend Jared! He’s going to be a famous chef!”

Jared blows hair out of his face and falls back against the wall. “Right.”

“Well, you are.”

“I’m your friend?”

Jensen narrows his eyes, suddenly confused. Or maybe totally aware of what’s happening yet unsure how to traverse this. Jared’s terribly morose, and sure, that’s because he’s been cut before the end, before the trophy and the $250,000 prize. Jensen gets that, he absolutely does. But there’s something more with Jared’s pronunciation of _friend_.

His mind flashes back to that night in Jared’s hotel room. Not like he’s forgotten it, but given how little he’s talked to Jared since then, he’d thought … well, he assumed he was the one who was overthinking it all. 

“Your friend, yeah,” Jared mumbles as he toes at the wood floor. “Your friend who cooks for you and is famous for being on TV.”

“Jay,” he whispers as he steps forward. Jared seems to slink into the wall and Jensen doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, yet he also thinks he finally has to make a real move in this direction, rather than dance around it like he has for the past two years, or swept it under the rug when he raced off to the airport that morning. 

“No, it’s cool.” Jared’s voice says it’s anything but. “Good to know now, you know, before I get all famous and stuff.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” Jensen gives him a small smile, even when there’s the sting of Jared’s attitude. He doesn’t want Jared to feel these things, let alone say them, so he steps closer and reaches for Jared’s face to bring him in for a kiss. It’s mellow and easy, and Jensen’s okay with that. He wants to take some time to calm Jared down from whatever has him so upset.

When they break apart, Jared is breathing heavy and his eyes are dazed even as he seems to be staring right into Jensen’s soul. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Jensen chuckles. “I think I’m the idiot. And I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For never saying anything before all this. For making you think it was just because of the show. I mean, it kind of was because of the show that I realized it all …” Jared’s face drops and Jensen soldiers right on with so much depth in his voice that it makes him shake. “Jared, you’ve been more than just a kid cooking in my kitchen for a long time.”

Jared sucks in a breath and blinks at him. “Really?”

Jensen nods immediately and leans in closer, rests his forehead to Jared’s, which does require a little bit of stretching up on his tiptoes, but he kind of likes that. He rather likes the length of Jared’s body even when the kid shrinks into himself without the full knowledge of the power and talent he has tucked inside him. “Absolutely, yes.”

“Okay,” he says with another long breath. “So, I guess we’re both idiots.”

Laughing, Jensen pushes up even closer and kisses Jared quickly before pulling back and dragging Jared with him into the living room. “Fair enough. But instead of lamenting our idiocy, tell me everything about the show.”

Jared digs his heels in and yanks Jensen with him in the other direction. “I just got off a cross–country flight and I’m not up for a whole lot of talking.”

“Need a nap?”

Grabbing Jensen’s hand, Jared murmurs, “Yeah, a _nap_.”

Jensen thinks he hears the light bulb fire up above his head and his eyes go wide. “Oh, like we napped in L.A.”

Jared bites his lower lip. “Yeah, kinda like that. If that’s okay?”

He leans in close and nips at Jared’s mouth. “That’s definitely okay.”

He drags Jared into the bedroom and they fall onto the bed, trying to keep the kiss going. Jared immediately moves over Jensen to straddle his hips and gets right back to kissing quick and messy. 

Seconds later, Jared shifts further down Jensen’s legs. The blush high on his cheeks betrays how he seems like he’s a man on mission. 

Jensen holds himself steady as Jared opens his mouth and closes it a few times to drum up the courage to say something. Then he reaches out for Jared’s legs, rubbing along his knees to have some sort of connection while Jared sorts out his words. 

“I want to …” Jared takes a deep breath and has a shaky smile before he goes on. “I want to return the favor.”

With a little laugh, Jensen sits up and grabs hold of Jared’s face. He tips his forehead to Jared’s and smiles brightly. “It’s not a favor.” A moment later, he adds, “Not that I don’t want you to do it.”

“I just …” Another long breath and Jared steadies himself before admitting. “I liked it. And you. Like, really like.”

Another small laugh and Jensen kisses Jared, short and sweet, before running his thumbs over Jared’s cheek. “Me, too, kid.”

“Yeah?”

Jensen nods against him and kisses him again, going slow and steady to drive the point home. Jared melts with him for a long run of kissing, and Jensen goes dizzy with his heart racing and the feel of Jared’s hands over his shoulders, up his neck, and down his back. 

Jared finally gets his nerve and nudges Jensen down to the bed. He shifts back and tugs Jensen’s sweats and underwear down before wrapping his hand around Jensen’s hardening dick. After a few steady strokes, Jared brings his body down to the mattress and leans in to mouth at the head of Jensen’s dick. 

Jensen immediately thinks back to Jared’s hotel room and how quickly he’d gotten Jared to come. He’s sure that’ll be him tonight, because Jared’s mouth is so big and warm and wet that Jensen can’t stop the hitch of his hips with every move of Jared’s lips and tongue. 

And he really is done that quickly with Jared’s eager mouth that he has to warn Jared far too soon that he’s about to break. Jared shifts back and fists him through it, and Jensen practically sinks into the bed after he comes.

When he’s got his wits about him, he shifts to Jared now laid out beside him and smirks. “Alright, this probably won’t be as good as it was in L.A. after you just did that.”

Jared practically giggles as he stretches out and welcomes Jensen into his arms. 

Jensen follows a lot of what did happen in L.A., for no other reason than it’s what he knows works right now. He’ll figure out a hell of a lot more about Jared and what can break him down in bed another night. For now, he just wants to make Jared feel as good and boneless as he does. 

It’s quick and dirty when Jensen fists Jared and licks all around his dick. Jensen smiles just like he did back in that hotel room when Jared shouts and comes in Jensen’s mouth. And just like that night, Jensen crawls up the bed to lay with Jared so there’s no telling where one ends and the other begins. 

He’s got Jared all wrapped up in his arms and Jensen never wants to let go. He’s glad when Jared doesn’t seem to either.

  


Walking up to the back door of the restaurant, Jared holds his head high and shoulders back. He’s been back in town for a few weeks now but keeping his distance due to the confidentiality clauses in his contract.

Most of his time has been spent at Jensen’s … well, pretty much all of it. He hasn’t gone home yet and he tells himself it’s that stupid clause keeping him from his family. But he knows it’s so much more … and while that stings like hell, the wound is soothed by Jensen staying at his side.

Especially now, when Jared’s about to make his return to Morgan’s to have a very serious talk with the boss. 

Jensen stops him before reaching for the door handle. “Now, just be prepared –”

“I’ve dealt with tons of shit from those guys,” he insists. Because yeah, he’s been a bit terrified about facing the crew again, but there is a new strength within him and he knows that if he can’t survive at Morgan’s, it’s more of a reflection on them.

When he’d been eliminated on the show, Roché gave a very heartfelt speech about the promise of Jared’s talent at this age and he promised he would help Jared get a month or two of training at any of his restaurants that Jared could pick. Sterling, too, offered Jared a visit to his show.

It’s not that he’s turning that offer down. He’s just filling his time until he gets something more formal. And sure, Jensen said Jared could stay with him as long as he needs, but he really wants to get back on his feet and find his own place, his own home to fill with all the food he can cook and be able to open the door to welcome Jensen into his own kitchen. 

“I’m not saying the guys,” Jensen says with a careful smile. “Just be prepared that Morgan might not give you your job back.”

Jared stands tall and forces his shoulders even straighter. He knows he has to look the part to play it. Confident as he can, he announces, “I don’t need Morgan to validate me. I just need a paycheck to get through the next few weeks.”

Jensen lifts his hands in peace. “Okay then. So long as you’ve thought this through.”

“I can’t hog your bed until I finally find a real job.”

With a shrug, Jensen offers, “If it gets that bad, you could take the couch.”

Jared pushes him, but they’re both laughing, and Jared acknowledges this whole charade has chilled him out a bit and he no longer has to force his posture. He’s feeling far more relaxed than when they first walked through the alley to this door.

Jensen grabs the handle and gives him a look. “You ready, kid?”

Sighing, Jared complains, “Can you stop with the kid? It feels weird now that we’re, you know … “

“Napping together?”

“I hate you.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Jensen opens the door with a flourish and a sweep of his hand to allow Jared in first. They walk through the back hallway and Jared spares just a passing glance at the framed pictures and articles on the wall until he enters the kitchen.

That’s when Jared sees the whole staff joined together with Morgan standing to the side. They’re all watching him, and Jared’s breath catches and his feet stop him in place. 

It’s like a firing squad and now he wonders what Jensen knew when he said his job may not be here for him anymore …

“Padalecki!” Morgan calls out, gruff and almost annoyed. 

“Yes, sir,” he says on automatic. Damn, he wishes he could take that back because he knows he doesn't really _need_ Morgan on his side anymore. There are better chefs looking out for him now.

Morgan has a sliver of a smile and Jared wants to give the man the finger for how much he loves wielding that authority. 

“I was hoping we could talk,” Jared offers. 

“About?”

“I’d like to get my job back.”

“Is that so?”

Jared squirms in place before taking in the staff again. Most are quiet and just watching him back, others a little jittery, but they’re all watching him closely. 

Jensen’s words flash in his mind again. _Be prepared that Morgan might not give you your job back._

He thought he _was_ prepared, but apparently not, because his mouth goes dry and his palms are sweating more than normal. His voice even breaks when he says, “Yes, it is.”

Morgan crosses his arms and leans back on the prep table. Jared sighs, because if he does get his job back, the first thing he’ll have to do is clean that spot.

The room so deathly quiet, Jared’s harsh swallow must echo too loud, but he pushes on. Shoulders straight, chin up, and he firmly says, “I think I’ve proven myself in these last few months and I’d like to have my job back.”

“Hmm, well.” Morgan looks around the kitchen before facing Jared again. “I don’t think I can do that.”

Jared surveys the room and there’s a bit of a smile on Chris’s face that makes him want to turn heel and run. When he turns to Jensen, there’s nothing there. Jensen’s moved a few more feet away to stand closer to the other end of the group and watch Jared shrivel up and die, apparently. 

“You were one of my prep cooks and you left to go chase a dream out in California. And now you’re back and want to just get right back to the prep table? I just can’t stand for that.”

Another large gulp and Jared takes a step back. When Morgan comes forward, Jared moves another foot away. 

Then Morgan pulls something off the end of the prep station and flaps out a white piece of fabric, straightening it until Jared makes out the shape of a chef’s jacket. There on the breast, in a maroon that matches the Morgan’s logo, are five elegant letters. 

_Jared_.

“After all you’ve done,” Morgan goes on. “I don’t think I can keep you on the prep station. How about working the line for a little while?”

Jared inhales deeply and thinks he’ll pass out at the sight of this jacket, with his name, and Morgan grinning at him … hell, the whole room is smiling and excited. He looks at Jensen, whose face is bright pink with wide and hopeful eyes, maybe proud. “Did you do this?”

“You did,” Morgan insists. 

Shaking his head, Jared thinks he must be dreaming before Morgan speaks again.

“So, what do you say, kid?”

Jensen laughs at _kid_ and Jared glares at him for just a second before he’s finally stumbling forward to grab the jacket from Morgan. “Yeah, absolutely It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

The room erupts in shouts and applause, and Jared is overwhelmed by the shared emotions, by the support and excitement of everyone around him. All these people who held him down are now willing to prop him up. He realizes his time on Masterchef did more than he’d expected because he finally has all these people behind him. Finally, he has some respect. 

Morgan scruffs a hand at the back of Jared’s head and winks. “You earned it, Padalecki.”

He looks to Jensen again and they share a long look as the celebration carries on and he hears someone shouting about champagne, followed by bottles popping.

That’s when he hears Jensen’s voice coming closer to him. “You earned it,” Jensen repeats. “ _You did_.”

Jared’s smiling so broadly, his cheeks hurt, but he doesn’t care how foolish he looks when he has Jensen in front of him. “You kinda helped along the way.”

Jensen tsks at him before grabbing the jacket to admire it. He sets it against Jared’s chest like he’s visualizing it. “Man, you’re going to look so good in this.”

“You did help,” Jared insists before swallowing hard against the emotions brewing. “You were the only one who believed in me.”

“I wasn’t the only one.” Jared’s about to argue when Jensen grabs onto his arms and shakes him a little. “You believed in you, too. I just don’t think you realized it before.”

There’s another rough swallow, and man, this lump will not go down no matter what Jared does. 

Jensen pulls him closer and whispers, “So proud of you, Jay.”

“Me, too,” he admits quietly and feels warmth bloom in his chest to know he’s right. He really is proud of all this. 

It doesn’t mean he isn’t going to answer Sterling’s call when it comes … Or that he won’t try to drag Jensen along for the ride.


End file.
